Vol. 1 Chapter 13 – I don’t dislike it

♠

“Hey, Sasagawa-san.”

“What’s wrong?”

It was a little past ten on Saturday morning.

That day, Kyousuke had come to Ayano’s room for a certain purpose. As usual, he entered the living room, sat down on the sofa he was used to, and stared bitterly at the unfamiliar cosmetics spread across the table.

“If I said I want to back out after all… would you be mad?”

“I wouldn’t get angry, but… I did prepare quite a bit, so I’d probably feel a little down.”

Hearing that sad voice from behind, Kyousuke gave in.

He made up his mind—to cross-dress.

“So, today’s plan is: finish your makeup before lunch, eat, watch a movie, then go to the cat café. Is there anywhere else you want to go?”

“…W-Wait a sec. Isn’t this just happening inside the house?”

“Huh? You’re not going outside?”

“What?”

Kyousuke had assumed this whole thing would be confined to the room. That was the context in which he had agreed to give her the “right” to make him cross-dress. He hadn’t meant for it to include going out in public.

However, there seemed to have been a misunderstanding. When he turned around, she was biting her lip and looking down, her face unable to hide her disappointment. Seeing that expression, Kyousuke gave a wry, bitter smile and turned forward again.

“…Alright. I’ll go wherever you want.”

Even as he thought to himself how soft-hearted he was.

This was a birthday present for Ayano. It was only natural to let her do as she pleased to a certain extent—or so Kyousuke convinced himself, suppressing the urge to run away that welled up inside him.

Two hours later.

The makeup, the outfit—everything was done. Ayano gave him a thumbs-up, declaring,『Perfect!』but Kyousuke still hadn’t seen what he looked like.

With a rattling sound, a full-length mirror on wheels was rolled in from the bedroom. A thin cloth had been draped over it, perhaps to keep off the dust or to make it a surprise. Even now, standing face-to-face with it, he couldn’t see his reflection.

“Ready? I’m taking it off!”

Ayano’s breathing grew heavy with excitement as she gripped the cloth tightly. Kyousuke sighed, telling her to just get it over with.

Dokodokodokodoko—a self-made drumroll. Then, with a cheerful “Ta-da!”, the light brown cloth flew into the air.

For a moment, he didn’t even realize it was a mirror.

His skin was pale like porcelain, his lips painted bright red, his eyes sharply defined. His natural hair was hidden under a black wig styled into soft twin-tails.

Lowering his gaze slightly, he saw a short black hoodie adorned with tiny golden stars scattered across it. The sleeves puffed out like balloons and were long enough to cover his hands. A pitch-black miniskirt and cat-themed knee-high socks emphasized his slender, shapely legs.

Other details—down to things as small as his fingernails—flooded into his awareness like a torrent.

But all of that became meaningless compared to the one undeniable truth that seized his mind.

‘…Wait, isn’t this… kinda cute?’

That thought sat itself down in his brain, and he shook his head violently to drive it out. Yet, the more he looked, the more natural it seemed, and he could feel the masculinity inside him slipping away.

‘W-What the hell am I thinking!’

He somehow managed to patch up the part of himself that was falling apart, taking two or three deep breaths.

He stared into the mirror again—from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He even tried striking a small pose. What he saw was the image of a slightly sharp-tongued, artsy girl—the kind of subculture type you’d find at least one of in every grade.

“How is it!? Amazing, right!?”

Like a child eager to show off a drawing of her mother, Ayano swayed her body happily. Kyousuke swallowed the words that almost came out, then let out a sigh, deciding it would be wrong not to be honest.

“…I-I think it’s cute.”

“Right!? Seriously, you could totally pass as a real girl!”

“There’s no way.”

“Can I call you Kyouko-chan?”

“Spare me.”

Being treated so much like a girl, he felt as if even his heart might get taken over.

And yet, he didn’t feel bad about it.

Even during the makeup session, and even now with everything finished, she looked like she was having so much fun. It was a birthday present, after all—if it didn’t make her happy, then what was the point? If sacrificing a bit of his own embarrassment could give someone else a moment of joy, that was a small price to pay.

“Just wait a second. I’m gonna go change too!”

Watching Ayano twirl around and disappear into her bedroom, Kyousuke once again faced the mirror.

He chuckled bitterly, thinking about the near future—about going outside like this. Even if he could fool people with his appearance, there was nothing he could do about his voice. He tried speaking in falsetto—“Ah” and “Uh”—but no matter how he listened, he still sounded like a guy.

‘It’s probably best if I don’t talk to anyone besides Sasagawa-san.’

Even if some random stranger on the street figured him out, it wouldn’t affect Kyousuke personally.

But just the thought that a single word from him might shatter the image Ayano had worked so hard to create—it felt wrong. Since he looked cute, staying cute for the whole day would be part of the present, too.

“…”

His gaze wandered to the bedroom door.

He’d glimpsed inside once when it was open, but he’d never actually stepped into that sacred space of hers.

And now, just thinking about her changing clothes behind that wooden door…Unwanted fantasies started creeping into his brain.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!”

As Kyousuke wrestled with those inappropriate thoughts, Ayano finally returned.

A crimson leather jacket over a gray inner shirt, paired with black skinny pants—it was a cool, stylish look.

Her hair was tied back, and she wore a cap, giving her the appearance of a handsome young man who wouldn’t be out of place in a shoujo manga.

“It’s not exactly cross-dressing, but today I’m your prince escorting you around” she said with a bashful giggle, extending her hand like she was inviting him to dance.

Kyousuke gave a wry smile at her overly dramatic gesture and took her hand.

Once they stepped out of the apartment, he was hit with a wave of embarrassment that far outweighed anything he felt indoors.

He was certain everyone passing by was staring at him.

But what helped keep him sane was the shoes.

The thick-soled shoes he was wearing for the first time were so hard to walk in that if he let his attention slip out of embarrassment, he’d likely trip.

Also, Ayano holding his hand helped a lot.

He just kept his head down and walked without thinking, letting himself be led. His senses were almost completely shut off from the outside world, and all he could hear were his and her footsteps.

By the time they reached the station and got on the train, he had grown slightly used to the way he looked.

He even had enough mental room to notice that no one was giving him weird looks. Whether that was because he looked completely natural or because they were deliberately avoiding eye contact, he wasn’t sure—but he wanted to believe it was the former.

As for Ayano, she seemed to be having a blast the whole time.

Whenever their eyes met, she’d give a shy smile. Maybe her hands were sweaty, because she kept wiping them on her clothes and mumbling strange excuses like, 『It’s hot』. She laughed and said,『Fujimura, your body temperature’s really high』but Kyousuke didn’t have the nerve to retort,『You’re the hot one』.”

And then, again, their hands would touch, fingers would intertwine, and they’d hold hands.

It was a gesture they’d done over and over since leaving the house.

As Kyousuke grew more used to cross-dressing, a different kind of embarrassment began to take its place.

Holding hands—something he’d done countless times with his mom and sister—felt embarrassingly intimate when done with someone else. It wasn’t like when they watched a movie together as part of a punishment game.

Now, the sound of his heartbeat had him worried it might be loud enough for her to hear—even though that should’ve been impossible.

They got off the train, exited the station, and headed toward the movie theater. And all the while, their shadows remained linked together.

He gently tightened his grip on her fingers.

Ayano, not wanting to lose, squeezed back. Finding it funny, Kyousuke loosened his grip, and she responded by clinging even tighter so he wouldn’t let go.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah. N-No, it’s nothing.”

Ayano looked back at him, puzzled, and Kyousuke gave a slight shake of his head.

“I see,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with her left hand. The ring on her pinky finger sparkled in the sunlight. To Kyousuke, that simple motion looked oddly sensual, and heat rose to his cheeks.

“W-Wait… was it uncomfortable?”

“What was?”

“Holding hands. You seemed really aware of it.”

“I-It’s not like I hated it!”

He’d spoken so loudly, it surprised even himself.

Crap, he thought, a chill running through his gut. Fortunately, none of the passersby seemed to notice—but Ayano might think he was a total weirdo now.

Searching for an excuse, his eyes darted around, and sweat began to bead between their clasped hands.

He let go once, rubbed the sweat away, then took her hand again—this time, of his own accord.

“When people touch, the body releases a happiness hormone called oxytocin. It’s supposed to help reduce stress and anxiety, so, um, I think this is actually really meaningful…”

As he babbled rapidly, he felt embarrassed by the words coming out of his mouth. But he couldn’t think of any better way to justify continuing to hold her hand. Still, he felt like he’d just made everything even more awkward. A cold shiver crept slowly down his spine.

“Then that means you’re happy right now, Fujimura.”

She tugged on his hand, and his body leaned forward slightly. Their feet resumed moving toward their destination.

“We’re the same, then.”

Seeing her innocent smile from the side, Kyousuke lowered his gaze again.

Because staring at her for too long was bad for his heart.

♥

They grabbed lunch at a nearby fast-food place before heading into the movie theater.

Though Kyousuke regretted sticking to their usual habit of deciding what movie to watch on the spot, he was relieved to find that the film he was curious about still had plenty of open seats. Next time, he told himself, they should plan things out properly.

“What about drinks or popcorn?”

“I’m good. We just ate, after all.”

—Though that was only half true.

Lately, every time she made meals for Kyousuke, she’d end up eating with him too, and she had started putting on a little weight. She was being considerate—if she didn’t eat, he might feel awkward eating alone. But it was about time she held back a little. She didn’t want him to see her looking chubby.

“There’s still time. Let’s sit for a bit.”

A little over ten minutes until the screening started—not quite enough to wander anywhere.

They sat down on a couch in the corner and took a breath. Their hands remained joined.

It was the first time she’d ever walked side-by-side with the opposite sex like a couple. Maybe because Kyousuke looked completely like a girl, and she herself was dressed like a prince, she felt no resistance to physical contact.

His hand was slender and supple, yet rough and unmistakably masculine.

Even with the outer appearance changed, this was definitely still his hand.

“…”

She pressed her lips together, let go, and wiped the sweat from her palm.

No good.

If she thought too deeply about it, her chest would start to tingle. It would burn in her heart, and she wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye.

She pulled her cap low to hide her eyes and took a small, deep breath.

Then, his hand gently settled atop hers. Looking down, she saw his black eyes cast downward as if hesitant—but his fingers reached forward with a slight insistence, trying to make contact.

Calm down. Calm down.

She spoke to something red inside her—different from the blood running through her veins—and exhaled slowly.

He didn’t mean anything special by it.

He was just anxious about going out in public while cross-dressed. He was looking to her for support. That was all.

Careful not to misread the situation, she returned the gesture and held his hand again.

And when he gave her that shy, embarrassed little smile—her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt.