In a world where a single glance can condemn you and a kind heart is easily mistaken for a threat, Gouda Takeo has long accepted his fate. Two meters tall and built like a fortress, he's used to the fearful stares, the empty seats, and the children who cry at the sight of him. But when he saves a delicate girl from a molester on a packed train—only to flee before she can even learn his name—Takeo's life is set on a collision course with a misunderstanding of epic proportions.
Because the girl h
My Love Story!! Beyond the Misunderstanding - Gorilla, Declared War on by the Pastry Chef
Golden Week ended, and the air at school turned a little heavier.
In a classroom still clinging to the afterglow of the holidays, Gouda Takeo lay slumped across his desk. Two meters tall, a hundred and twenty kilos. His custom 4L navy blazer strained across his back, bulging awkwardly. A short, cropped buzz cut, and small, deep-set black eyes. A heavy, gorilla-like face with thick lips. In the back row of the classroom, his massive frame made the chair creak and groan.
(What did I even do over the break?)
Takeo thought vaguely. He'd eaten the cookies Yamato Rinko gave him, a little each day. He'd gone to the neighborhood candy shop with Makoto. And then—he'd walked past Rinko's workplace, Patisserie Lumière, twice, for no reason at all.
(Stop it. You look like a stalker.)
He shook his head. The image surfaced of Rinko's serious profile, seen through the shop's glass. A white chef's coat. Chestnut hair. Small hands gripping a whisk.
Something deep in his chest ached sharply.
(Yamato likes Suna.)
(I decided I'd cheer them on.)
And yet—why did his heart feel so restless? Takeo didn't understand it.
"Hey, Gouda. There's a cute girl outside again."
At his classmate's voice, Takeo lifted his head.
Standing in the classroom doorway was Yamato Rinko, in her Koizumi Girls' Academy uniform. Soft chestnut hair fell to her shoulders, the fluffy ends swaying in the hallway breeze. Her big, round brown eyes darted around, searching the room.
"Y-Yamato..."
Takeo scrambled to his feet. His desk rattled with a bang.
Rinko spotted him and broke into a radiant smile.
"Takeo-kun!"
She trotted over to his desk, her skirt hem fluttering. Once again, every eye in the classroom converged on the two of them. He could hear the boys whispering.
"She's back again." "What's she want with Gouda?" "Seriously, I don't get it."
Takeo ignored them and looked down at Rinko.
"What's up, Yamato? You need something today?"
Rinko clasped her hands in front of her chest, looking a little troubled.
"Um, Takeo-kun. Chef Ichinose says he has something to talk to you about."
"Chef Ichinose...?"
"The chef at my workplace. You came to the shop before, right? The guy with the red bandana."
Takeo remembered that day. The day he'd eaten Rinko's trial cake at Patisserie Lumière. There'd been a man in the back of the kitchen, staring at him. Light brown hair styled carelessly, a red bandana around his neck—a handsome man with a sweet face.
(That guy, huh.)
"He wants you to come by the shop tomorrow evening. He says he has something important to discuss."
Rinko tilted her head.
"W-why would he want to talk to me?"
"I don't know. But he looked really serious. He said he wants to meet you in person."
(Something important? With me?)
(I've never even talked to that chef once.)
Takeo's head filled with question marks.
"...Got it. I'll go."
That was his answer.
Rinko's face lit up.
"Really? Great! I'll be waiting at the shop."
"Then tomorrow, evening, at the shop. Promise?"
Rinko held out her little finger.
(A p-pinky promise?)
Takeo looked at his own thick finger. It was about three times as thick as hers.
He timidly offered his pinky. Rinko wrapped her slender little finger around his thick one.
"Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."
She said it like she was singing.
(Oh man. Our hands are touching. Yamato's hand is so small. So warm.)
Takeo felt like his heartbeat must be echoing through the whole classroom.
"S-sure..."
He fought desperately to keep his voice from cracking.
Rinko let go and smiled happily.
"See you tomorrow, Takeo-kun!"
She spun around, skirt flaring, and left the classroom.
The buzz of chatter lingered for a while after.
Takeo stared at his own pinky.
(Chef Ichinose, huh.)
(Why would he want to talk to me?)
(Did I do something?)
He tilted his head.
"What could it be..."
Outside the window, the May sunset dyed the schoolyard orange.
Deep in his chest, a small unease flickered to life.
It was a premonition that didn't have a name yet.
——
The next day, evening.
Takeo stood in the redevelopment district, a three-minute walk from Minatosaka Station's east exit. Before him was a stylish, glass-fronted shop. On the white wall, gold lettering read "Patisserie Lumière."
(Here I am.)
(Knew it. This place doesn't suit me at all.)
The display case was lined with cakes in every color. Strawberry shortcake, chocolate tart, yellow lemon pie. Each one sparkled like a jewel.
Takeo swallowed hard.
(Yamato's cake was so good.)
(I want to eat that "thank-you cake" again.)
Thinking about it, he stood at the shop entrance.
The automatic door slid open quietly.
Ding-a-ling, went the little bell.
The inside of the shop was filled with a sweet fragrance. Butter and sugar, and the scent of freshly baked sponge.
"Welcome."
A floor staff member's voice.
Takeo looked around. Two young women sat in the eat-in area. In front of the display case, a woman who looked like a mother with a small child.
(Where's Yamato?)
That was when it happened.
The kitchen door flew open with force.
"I've been waiting for you, Gouda-kun."
A low, confident voice.
Ichinose Subaru appeared. Light brown hair styled carelessly, a red bandana around his neck. His sweet amber eyes fixed squarely on Takeo. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his white chef's coat, arms crossed, standing like a guardian deity.
(So this is Chef Ichinose.)
(What an aura. He doesn't feel like a cake shop chef at all.)
Takeo instinctively took a step back from Ichinose's intensity.
Ichinose looked Takeo's massive frame slowly up and down.
"Hm. I'd heard the rumors, but you really are big."
"S-sure..."
Takeo had no idea how to respond, so he gave a vague nod.
Ichinose, arms still crossed, took a step closer.
"I'll be blunt. Stay away from Rinko-san."
"...Huh?"
Takeo asked again.
"I said stay away from Rinko-san. That girl is out of your league."
Ichinose's voice was clear enough to carry through the whole shop.
The women in the eat-in area looked over. The floor staff stood frozen.
"Imagine a man like you standing next to Rinko-san. Comical, isn't it?"
A thin smile played at the corner of Ichinose's mouth.
"Rinko-san is a girl as lovely as an angel. You're a gorilla. Do you seriously believe you have any right to stand beside her?"
(Gorilla.)
(No right.)
Those words stabbed deep into Takeo's chest.
(I know. I know that better than anyone.)
(I'm not good enough for Yamato.)
(I've known that for a long time.)
Takeo clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms.
"I will protect Rinko-san."
Ichinose declared it, chest puffed out.
"Stay away from her. It's for her own good."
"S-sure..."
That was all Takeo could say.
No words of rebuttal came to mind.
(No. I'm not trying to get close to Yamato.)
(I just want to cheer her on, if she likes Suna.)
(That's all.)
He wanted to say it. But no voice came out.
He was completely overwhelmed by Ichinose's ferocity.
That was when it happened.
"Chef Ichinose, stop it!"
Rinko's voice rang through the shop.
He turned—Rinko came flying out from the back of the kitchen. Still in her white chef's coat, chestnut hair flying, she wedged herself between Takeo and Ichinose.
"Don't say rude things to Takeo-kun!"
Rinko glared at Ichinose with her big eyes.
"Rinko-san, this is a conversation between men. Stand down."
Ichinose wouldn't even listen to her.
"A conversation between men? Don't go deciding things about me on your own! Takeo-kun is my savior!"
Rinko's voice was trembling.
"Savior? Ah, the story about saving you from a molester on the train. But that's a separate matter. Rinko-san, you haven't realized your own feelings. A man like that is wasted on you."
Ichinose wouldn't even listen to her.
"Stop calling him 'a man like that'! Takeo-kun is kind, and strong, and cool!"
At Rinko's shout, Takeo's heart gave a great throb.
(Cool?)
(Me?)
(Yamato would say something like that for me?)
But he shook his head inwardly right away.
(No. Yamato's just being kind, that's why she says it.)
(She's just trying to protect me.)
"Rinko-san, you're too kind. That kindness is exactly what lets that man take advantage of you."
Ichinose sighed.
"Gouda-kun. You should look in a mirror and see yourself standing next to Rinko-san. Then you'll understand just how out of place you are."
Ichinose looked straight up into Takeo's face.
(Out of place.)
(I know. I know it.)
Takeo bit his lip.
The taste of iron spread through his mouth.
"...Sorry, Yamato. I'm going home."
That was all he said before turning his back.
"Takeo-kun! Wait!"
Rinko's voice chased after him.
But he couldn't turn around.
The automatic door opened, and the outside air wrapped around him.
The twilight streets looked painfully bright.
——
That night.
Takeo stood in front of the Sunakawa house's front door.
He pressed the intercom.
After a moment, the door opened.
"Takeo? What's up, at this hour?"
Sunakawa Makoto stood there with a puzzled look. Silky black hair. Narrow, cool black eyes. Refined features. He was in a T-shirt and sweats.
"Suna... listen to me for a bit."
Takeo spoke with his head down.
Makoto seemed to sense something from Takeo's state and opened the door without a word.
"Come in."
Makoto's room was on the second floor.
Takeo sat on the edge of the bed. It creaked. Makoto sat in the desk chair and looked at him.
"So. What happened?"
Makoto's voice was calm, as always.
"...Today, I got called out by the chef at Yamato's workplace."
Takeo began to speak, little by little.
"A guy named Ichinose. Super handsome, great at making cakes."
"He told me to stay away from Yamato. Said a guy like me is out of Yamato's league."
Makoto listened in silence.
"And then Yamato stood up for me, told him to stop... but I couldn't say anything. All I could get out was 's-sure.'"
Takeo clenched his fists.
"Suna, I really am not good enough for Yamato, am I. Gorilla face, can't study, can't make cakes."
"Takeo."
Makoto spoke quietly.
"Don't pay any attention to what that chef says."
"Huh?"
"Whether you're good enough for Yamato isn't for that chef to decide. It's for Yamato to decide."
Makoto looked straight at Takeo.
"Besides, you're not as bad a guy as you think you are. It's the opposite."
"Suna..."
"I guarantee it. You're a better man than anyone."
Makoto's words warmed Takeo's chest.
But a cold feeling quickly covered it over.
(Suna's kind, so he says that.)
(But reality is different.)
(I'm not good enough for Yamato.)
"...Thanks, Suna. But I really am not worthy of Yamato."
Takeo spoke with his head still down.
Makoto opened his mouth as if to say something.
But in the end, he said nothing.
He just quietly sat down beside Takeo.
For a while, silence flowed between them.
Outside the window, the night wind stirred the trees.
——
Back in his own room, Takeo collapsed onto his bed without even turning on the light.
The ceiling swam vaguely above him.
(Chef Ichinose is right.)
(I'm not good enough for Yamato.)
(A gorilla face standing next to Yamato—it's just wrong.)
Takeo slowly sat up.
There was a hand mirror on his desk.
He picked it up and looked at his own face.
Cropped black hair. Small, deep-set black eyes. Heavy features. Thick lips.
(Gorilla.)
(Really a gorilla.)
Takeo laid the mirror face down.
That was when it happened.
Rinko's face surfaced in his mind.
That day on the train, when he saved her—her small figure, face a mess with tears, bowing over and over.
The shy smile she wore when she offered him cookies in the classroom.
Her serious profile as she made cakes.
Her warm hand during the pinky promise.
And today, her desperate face as she stood up to Ichinose.
"I love her..."
Takeo murmured aloud.
"I love Yamato."
Something deep in his chest pulsed violently.
"But I'm no good."
"I'm not worthy of Yamato."
Takeo clutched at
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