Chapter 24: Bonds of Mortality - Part 3

The next day.

I was facing Gwen in a classroom at Midtown High.

"Gwen, go out with me."

That’s what I said to Gwen.

She looked puzzled... then nodded like she’d come to a realization.

"Sure. For what?"

For what?

"Ah."

That’s when I realized I’d misspoken.

"F-For shopping..."

"Okay, sounds good. But Michelle, be careful, okay? If you say it like that, some guys might get the wrong idea."

As Gwen said that...

...Peter started choking and spilled his drink.

Oh, right.

When I got to school today, for some reason, Peter was holding his cheek.

I asked what happened, and he said, "I ran into a wall..."

...Who the hell bumps into a wall cheek-first?

I found it suspicious.

He’s unbelievably bad at hiding things.

It’s a miracle no one’s figured out he’s Spider-Man...

Anyway, back to the point.

"So, Michelle. Shopping? What do you need?"

"...Girly clothes."

That’s right.

I realized it yesterday when I made plans with Peter at the Sweets Festa.

I seriously don’t own any girly clothes.

I don’t have a stylish outfit I can wear when it counts.

Part of it is that my mindset still leans more masculine, so I only have casual stuff like jeans and shorts.

...Other than that, there’s the dresses Tinkerer made.

In other words, I have nothing in between casual and formal.

When I need to dress up just a little, I’m at a loss.

I don’t even have anything suitable for the Oscorp Company Dinner Party that Harry invited me to.

Gwen listened to me... with this incredibly knowing smile on her face.

"Hehh... huhh... I see now..."

Gwen really is amazing.

Even when I don’t say much, she just gets it.

She’s got absurdly high communication skills.

...Hm?

For some reason, she kept glancing at Peter with a smirk. That was a bit concerning.

"If that’s what it’s about, then of course I’ll go. Let’s do it tomorrow—Saturday."

"Yeah, thank you."

While we were making plans, Peter kept sneaking glances our way.

If you’re curious, just say something.

What a weirdo.

---

Now, I’m at the shopping mall.

It’s one of the biggest and most famous ones in Queens.

Inside it is a clothing store—reasonably priced, the kind students can afford.

...And now, here I am, standing in front of a mirror in just my underwear.

This is the fitting room.

In my hands... a white one-piece dress.

"G-Gwen, there’s no way this suits me..."

I called out to Gwen from behind the curtain.

"It totally does. Just try it on already."

...Ugh, I do kind of get that it would suit me.

I mean, I am a beautiful girl.

But still, it’s just so embarrassing.

Can’t we start with something less flashy, less pure-looking? Something girly but still casual, Gwen?

Why this super high-difficulty outfit...?

I zipped it up and put the one-piece on.

...This weird belt-looking thing... oh, it goes above the belly button.

Once I was done and looked in the mirror... a pure-looking beauty was blushing back at me.

"G-Gwen, it totally doesn’t suit me..."

She opened the curtain and stared at me intently.

Then she gave me a thumbs-up.

"Huh? No, it really suits you. You look so cute."

"It doesn’t suit me...!"

No, I mean—it probably does suit me.

Visually, anyway.

But it was just so incredibly embarrassing.

...Ugh, my legs feel so breezy below the knees.

Compared to this, Tinkerer’s dress was way easier to wear.

It was black, and the skirt was long.

Elegant, kind of reserved. But this bright white one-piece, screaming cuteness, is... a lethal weapon.

It’s a toxic one-piece dress designed to murder me emotionally.

"Ugh, grgh..."

As I let out a weird groan—

Click.

I heard a shutter sound.

"Gwen...!?"

"Ah—couldn’t help myself."

Gwen slipped her phone back into her pocket.

"...Are you messing with me?"

"No no, I’m seriously helping you pick. Okay, next one—try this on."

The next outfit she handed me was...

A frilly, lacy, fluffy pink thing...

"Guh... ngh..."

Groaning again, I took it from her.

Honestly.

To be totally honest—

It’s the kind of outfit I’d never wear. But Gwen picked it out just for me.

And Gwen isn’t the type to pick something just to make fun of someone.

I trust her on that.

That’s exactly why I couldn’t just brush her off.

She’s my one and only female friend.

I have no clue what counts as proper fashion for girls.

That’s why—I had no choice but to follow her lead.

"You look great, Michelle~"

Click.

"Guh, kuh, gggh..."

"Next—this one."

Click.

"U-ugh..."

"This one too, and this one."

Click.

"Uu...uuuh..."

"And this one!"

Click.

"……………"

"Huh? Michelle?"

I was already on the brink of death.

Turned into Gwen’s personal dress-up doll, my pride and sense of shame were shredded beyond repair.

"...Tired?"

"...Yeah."

Really, I was completely exhausted.

I was dying.

"Then, just one last outfit."

She handed me the final one—and when I looked at it...

"Ah."

I let out a small sound without meaning to.

A black-and-white checkered skirt with a white blouse.

It had a calm, composed look.

"Hmm... I think loud, cutesy fashion suits you better, Michelle. But fashion’s no good if the person wearing it doesn’t love it."

I changed into the outfit and stood in front of the mirror.

...Yeah. This is good. Something like this is just right.

I opened the curtain and stepped out in front of Gwen.

"You look great, Michelle."

Gwen said, giving me a wink... and yeah, she really was unbelievably cool.

---

Lick, lick.

"By the way, Michelle, did you buy a swimsuit for the summer vacation trip?"

Lick, lick.

I shook my head.

"What? You’re planning to go in the school-issue swimsuit?"

Lick, lick.

I nodded...

"...Michelle, maybe we should stop talking until you finish your sherbet?"

I nodded again.

Lick, lick.

The sherbet I was licking came from a street stand inside the mall.

Cranberry flavor.

Sweet and tart—totally delicious.

Cranberries by themselves are terribly sour, but this sherbet had clearly been loaded with sweeteners, making it just the kind of sweetness I love—

Oops, it’s melting. Gotta hurry.

Lick, lick.

As I devoured the sherbet, Gwen looked at me with an odd expression—half exasperated, half fond.

"Uhh, sorry, Gwen. Want a bite?"

"Huh?"

Huh? I just figured you were giving me that look because you wanted some...

"Do I really look that desperate for food?"

"S-sorry."

I finished my sherbet and tossed the plastic stick into the trash.

"So, about that trip during summer break..."

"Oh, r-right, now that you mention it."

At Midtown High, there’s a school trip during the summer vacation. It’s an event where class reps and teachers team up to plan a trip for each grade.

And our destination is… Miami, Florida.

When you think of Miami… you think of Miami Beach.

Summer! The ocean! The beach! You know where this is going.

"But even if I don’t buy a new swimsuit, I could just wear the school-issued one—"

"That. Is. Not. Happening."

Gwen crossed her arms in a big X.

"Everyone’s gonna be in cute, super-prepped swimsuits, and you’re the only one in a boring school-issued one? Michelle, are you really okay with that?"

"U-uh, I mean… yeah?"

Not like I care, though.

But if I actually said that, it’d just make things more complicated again.

"Which means—this afternoon, we’re going swimsuit shopping."

"Are you getting one too, Gwen?"

"I already bought mine, so I’m good. Oh… actually, that reminds me."

Gwen smiled brightly.

"Michelle, can you tell me what kind of guy you like?"

Huh?

"…Eh?"

"It’s not like it’s some big deal or anything, you know? I was just kinda curious. So, come on, tell me? Please?"

"U-uh…"

My… type, huh?

Is this the kind of thing girls our age normally talk about?

I mean, I used to be a guy… and I’ve never even gone to school until now, so I really wouldn’t know…

Well, no—more than half my sense of self is still male.

So honestly, seriously, definitely, probably—I don’t think I’ll ever see a guy as a romantic option.

…Or at least, I think I won’t.

But… well, if I had to say—if I were forced to give an answer…

"My type is—"

I opened my mouth to answer Gwen’s question.

---

Right in front of me was a flustered Michelle.

Michelle had almost no interest in romance, and she was completely unaware of how cute—no, how beautiful—she was.

I, Gwen Stacy, found that to be such a waste.

I looked at Michelle in front of me.

That eye-catching platinum blonde hair.

Those cobalt-blue eyes, sparkling like gemstones.

Her tiny mouth.

Her smooth, flawless skin.

That miraculous balance of adorable, like a small animal, and elegant, like a doll.

And more than anything, her personality was even cuter than her looks.

She had low self-esteem, and while she was a bit introverted, that didn’t mean she was bad at socializing. She even had a bit of a sense of humor...

Ah, but—there were one… no, two things about her that I’d call flaws—or at least concerns.

One: she had zero sense of danger when it came to guys.

And two: she seemed to have very little interest in them to begin with.

I remembered what happened this past weekend.

Ever since Michelle transferred to our school, she and Peter had been—well, close. Exceptionally so.

And then, after school, Peter came to talk to me.

While Michelle wasn’t in the classroom—she’d stepped out to the restroom.

"Gwen… there’s something I need to ask you. Could you help me out?"

Peter said, his cheek swollen.

…The reason it was swollen was because I’d slapped him.

The other day, Michelle went on a date with Peter… but that dumbass, clueless virgin bastard showed up late.

In the end, he didn’t arrive on time at all, so it turned into more of a home date situation… and the reason I know that is because Peter came and reported the whole thing to me.

As if I were his confessional booth or something… well, if he wants to confess, that’s fine, but I gave him a slap anyway, just in case.

That same Peter then came up to me again—this time with a very serious look on his face.

I didn’t make any jokes and decided to actually hear him out.

"What’s up, Peter?"

"Um… there’s something I want to ask Michelle, but…"

"Huh? Why not ask her yourself?"

What a wimp.

So that’s what this is about? Seriously, why is he like this?

Peter’s not bad-looking.

If I had to rate him on a scale of top-tier, mid-tier, and low-tier, he’s somewhere between upper-mid and lower-high.

But the reason he’s not popular with the girls in class… is because he’s just so unbelievably pathetic.

He’s missing that, you know, drive.

That hunger, that “I’ll take the lead” kind of boldness.

That selfishness, strength—what you might call masculinity.

He’s totally lacking in that area.

In that department, he’s about a hundred points behind Flash.

...Well, Flash goes too hard, if you ask me.

But guys like him are the ones who get all the attention. That’s just how the world works.

While I was roasting Peter in my head, the real Peter finally opened his mouth.

"Like… what kind of guys she’s into, and stuff."

"Got it. I’ll ask her."

I answered immediately, without even a second’s pause.

If that’s what this is about, I’m all in.

I love hearing other people’s love stories.

Besides, if Michelle falls for someone—or even just has a crush—I’d honestly find it adorable, and it’d make me happy.

And… that’s the end of the flashback.

Back to the present.

When I asked Michelle what kind of guy she liked, she got all flustered (which was super cute), but then seemed to steel herself and finally spoke up.

"My type is… someone who helps me when I’m in trouble, I think."

Huh.

"You mean, someone who's kind?"

"Not so much just being nice… more like, someone who quietly helps people when they’re struggling. Someone dependable."

Ah. I see?

"...Like a hero?"

"Maybe."

Hmmm?

Michelle really does have cute sides to her… I mean, she only has cute sides, but this one’s extra adorable.

I mean, think about it.

"So basically, you’re saying… you want a prince on a white horse to come rescue you?"

"Ah… yeah? Something like that, I guess?"

Michelle nodded, though her expression said she wasn’t totally sold on the idea.

That unawareness of hers? Also cute.

But still.

Ahh, this is…

Yeah.

Peter’s got no shot.

I mean, the guy’s the total opposite of the dependable hero type.

He’s spineless and unreliable… though I’ll give him this—he is a nice guy.

Poor thing.

I could already picture Peter sulking on Monday morning… and for a second, I felt like making the sign of the cross for him.

---

I… Harry Osborn, was staring at the phone on my desk.

Displayed on the screen was a contact.

Michelle Jane.

She was… a strange person.

She was a year younger than me, but—how should I put it—there was something mysterious about her. Yes, she gave off a slightly more mature impression.

"Haaah..."

I let out a sigh and turned off the phone's screen.

This was my house.

More accurately, it was the house of my father, Norman Osborn—who’d been arrested.

After he was taken in as the "Green Goblin," the house was transferred to my name.

But it’s just… big.

A big, empty house.

Far too big for one person to live in alone.

I got up and headed to my father’s study on the first floor.

Ever since he’d disappeared, that room had remained untouched.

Dust had gathered on the mirror, but otherwise, it was just as he left it.

"Dad… why?"

I sat down in the chair he used to occupy and held my head in my hands.

My father—Norman Osborn—was a good man.

At least, in front of me he was.

Strong, kind, smart, and strict.

He was the ideal father.

After my mother died, he raised me alone, with his own two hands.

…He wasn’t the kind of man who would carry out indiscriminate acts of terrorism.

I looked at the photo frame on the desk.

It was a picture of me and Dad.

I reached out toward it—

Tap tap—someone knocked on the windowpane.

"Who’s there?"

An intruder?

I turned my eyes toward the sound… and there he was—a man who looked like a vagrant.

He was wrapped in tattered cloth, and beneath it, he wore a filthy orange jumpsuit.

And when I saw his face—my breath caught in my throat in sheer shock.

It was my father—Norman Osborn.