Chapter 10: Beautiful Girl, Equips Her Uniform

Spring break was down to its final few days. As for me, I’d spent every one of them helping Mom with cooking, laundry, and housework.

Now that I was taking care of all that, Mom suddenly had time on her hands. So what was she doing with it? Making sweets and practicing knitting.

Wait—hold on. Isn’t that backwards? I’m basically the housewife now, and Mom’s the maiden of the house.

Not that I’m complaining—the sweets she makes are amazing. Still, there’s this faint, restless feeling in my chest that won’t quite settle.

That maiden-like Mom of mine was also ruthless when it came to teaching me how to cook. What, was she trying to turn me into a chef or something?

But thanks to her, I’ve actually gotten pretty decent at it. That part makes me happy, really. I’d never had a hobby before, so having something to focus on makes life feel a little more worthwhile.

Even if it all started because Mom forced me—after I turned into a girl—getting better at something is still a good thing.

Today, like always, I was hanging laundry outside. The forecast said it’d be clear, and sure enough, it was a perfect sunny day. I was up on the second-floor balcony, hanging the last shirt, when the doorbell rang.

"Comiiing!" Mom shouted from inside. It’s an intercom—she doesn’t actually need to yell. I’ve told her that several times, but somehow, she never changes.

A moment later, she called out again. "Ayumi-chan, come downstairs!"

Good grief. I quickly finished hanging the rest of the clothes and went down to see what she wanted.

"What is it, Mom?"

I’d gotten used to calling her “Mom”—or rather, “Mama”—by now. If I called her anything else, I’d apparently get a “spank on the butt.” Thankfully, that’s never actually happened.

Even so, it still feels weird for a high schooler to say “Mama.” But once you get used to it, it’s not that embarrassing.

For the record, I still call my dad “Dad.” Because if I ever called him “Papa,” he’d do literally anything I asked for—which is dangerous.

"Ayumi-chan, guess what this is?"

Mom lifted something out of a cardboard box—a blazer and a skirt.

"A uniform?"

"Ding-ding! And whose do you think it is?"

"Wait, don’t tell me—it’s yours?"

"Are you saying Mama looks that young? I’ll take it as a compliment. But sorry, this one’s yours."

"Huh?"

For a second, I didn’t get what she meant. But when it clicked, it wasn’t much of a mystery. Because I’m a girl now, of course!

Wait—no, that’s not it! I mean, it is, but… no, that’s not the point!

"When did you even buy this!? The uniform measurements were taken back when I was still a guy, right!?"

"Yeah, that’s true. But for some reason, the order went through for a girls’ uniform instead♪"

"Could you maybe have… asked some questions about that!?"

"Well, it worked out, didn’t it? Saved us the trouble."

Oh no. Did she actually order the girls’ version on purpose? Knowing her, that’s totally possible—and terrifying.

"Anyway, Ayumi-chan, the uniform’s here. So, what do you think you should do?"

"Uh… hang it up and put it in the closet?"

"Technically correct. But Mama wants to see you try it on~"

She could’ve just said that from the start. She always scolds me for leaving clothes lying around, too.

Not that saying it earlier would’ve changed my answer—I still wouldn’t want to wear it.

"I’m supposed to wear it at the entrance ceremony, right? So I don’t need to try it on now."

The idea of changing into it and showing it off to my family? Embarrassing.

And the fact that it’s a girl’s uniform makes it even worse.

Plus, it’s just a hassle to change clothes at all.

Those three reasons combined were enough to root me to the spot.

"But you didn’t get to try it on when you bought it, right? What if it doesn’t fit?"

"How about we question why a girls’ uniform got made in the first place, even though we never ordered one?"

"Well, that’s just how it is~"

…What does that even mean?

"Tell you what—if you put it on, I’ll buy you some yokan from Nakamuraya. A whole set of ten!"

"For real!?"

Nakamuraya is a Japanese sweets shop in the neighborhood, and their yokan is amazing. I fell in love with it the first time I tried it as a kid.

But since it’s handmade, each tiny piece costs 300 yen. Meanwhile, a convenience store version costs 120 yen, tastes fine, and is bigger.

So if I buy it myself, I go for the convenience store kind. The Nakamuraya one’s a luxury—something you only get when someone else treats you.

And ten of them together? That’s 3,000 yen’s worth!

Just for trying on some clothes? That’s an easy win! Don’t judge me—everyone’s got their weakness!

"You’re not lying, right!?"

"Has Mama ever lied to you?"

Yes. Yes, she has.

Last time, she promised to buy me a computer if I wore a skirt, and that still hasn’t happened.

But seeing her smiling so cheerfully, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

I took the uniform and went upstairs to my room.

Sigh… Holding a girls’ uniform like this really makes me feel like I did something wrong.

Even though it’s supposed to be mine, it feels like I stole it from someone else.

Ugh, there’s even a blouse. And shoes too. Somehow, they’re the perfect size—when did she even buy these?

I laid the whole outfit out on my bed and stared at it.

The school I’d be attending from spring, Mikawa Prefectural High School, didn’t allow girls to wear pants. So like it or not, I’d have to wear the skirt.

Technically, if my male uniform order had gone through, we’d have had to reorder anyway, so I guess this did save trouble. Even if it’s weird.

At this point, wearing the girls’ uniform was more about personal resolve than anything.

There were only a few days left before the entrance ceremony. I needed to make peace with it.

Besides, I’d already been living in skirts and shorts every day—what’s one more?

Alright. Stop thinking. Just put it on. Acceptance is key.

The uniform itself wasn’t anything special—just a typical girls’ high school outfit.

A navy blazer with a reddish-purple ribbon, and a pleated skirt in a matching red-purple and dark navy check.

Not particularly cute or flashy, but standard enough for a public high school.

The skirt reached just below my knees—actually longer than what I’d been wearing lately. Kind of comforting, really.

…Though realizing I’ve been wearing skirts regularly is just depressing.

Anyway, time to show Mom and claim my yokan reward!

"Mm-hmm, looks like it fits just right. You look absolutely adorable," Mom said, examining me from head to toe.

"Then go buy the yokan, okay? I’m gonna go change out of this now."

I said that and turned to leave the living room.
But I never made it back to my room.

"Hold it right there! You look adorable as you are, but there’s one major NG point!"

Mom grabbed my shoulders firmly.
NG point? What’s that supposed to mean? Did I do something wrong?

"It’s the skirt length!"

"I just put it on normally and it turned out like this."

"Exactly! That’s the problem! You can’t just wear it straight—you’ve got to shorten it! Otherwise, how are you supposed to make the boys fall head over heels for you?"

"I have absolutely no need to make anyone fall head over heels!"

"But you’ve got such beautiful thighs—so nice I could just eat them up! If you don’t show them off, the entire human race will cry!"

"Hey! Mom! Stop rubbing my thighs! That tickles!"

Apparently, my thighs are a global crisis.
Yeah, right. Like that’s a thing!

"Oh no… this silky-smooth feeling… Mama’s craving a little taste test…"

"What do you mean by ‘taste test’!?"

"Pet, lick, nibble?"

H-Heretic! Pervert alert! Officer, this one right here!

"Anyway! You’ve got to set that skirt length to proper high school girl fashion standards!"

"Even if I wanted to make it shorter, what am I supposed to do? Cut it?"

"No, no, no. You fold it from the top. Let’s see… two or three folds should do it. But be careful—the pleats can get messy if you’re careless."

Saying that, Mom began folding the top of my skirt neatly inward.

"When it’s winter uniform season, wrap this belt over it afterward. No one’ll see it under your blazer anyway."

She fastened a rubber belt snugly around my waist.
After three folds, the skirt that had been below my knees now sat about ten centimeters above them.

So this is the life of a high school girl, huh. Tough world.

"As for the summer uniform skirt, you can either cut it shorter or fold and sew it. We’ll sort that out later♪"

Sigh… Hopefully, by the time summer comes around, I’ll be back to being a guy.
Not that I have a clue how to do that, since I don’t even know how I became a girl in the first place.

"Perfect! Now that’s a high school girl! Ayumi-chan, you look amazing! Aaaah, I just wanna mess you up so bad!"

Mom suddenly threw her arms around me, excitement peaking.
She panted softly, running her hand over my head.

Ever since I became like this, people have been patting my head a lot. And I usually just let them.
I mean… it feels nice.

"This level of cuteness is dangerous. We’re getting you a personal alarm—no questions. If some creep sees you, they’ll definitely try something!"

Would that alarm work on family members too?
Because I’m pretty sure the main “creep” lives inside the Sakura household.

Mom finally stopped patting my head, looking satisfied, then gazed straight into my face.
Oh boy, what now…

"Ah! You’re a high school girl now—shouldn’t you start wearing makeup!?"

"Makeup!? No way! Absolutely not!"

"Hmm, well… maybe you’re right. You probably don’t need much yet. Maybe just BB cream, a little gloss, or some blush—but really, you’re super cute as you are!"

…BB cream? Gloss? I had no idea what those even were.
The only “Gloss” I knew was a Pokémon.

If I ever learned to use makeup, it’d be like climbing one more step on a very weird staircase.
And I’ve had more than enough of that kind of progress already!

Thanks to my baby face—or so Ryoji and Kaname said, claiming I could easily pass for a middle school first-year—I was spared the ordeal of makeup.

Having such a childlike face is… complicated. But still, I was glad I didn’t have to wear makeup.

I’m already responsible for making my own lunch, and I’ll have to keep making breakfast even after the break ends. That alone means waking up before six in the morning. If I had to add makeup on top of that, I’d be waking up at five! What am I, a grandpa? There’s no way I could get up that early.

After being poked and prodded from all sides, my mind was completely exhausted.

I somehow managed to break free from Mom’s hug—or rather, her clingy entanglement—and tried to make a run for it out of the living room.

Please, just let me go already.

But she cut me off!

“Heheheheh! There’s no escaping Mama!”

What kind of final boss is she!? She’s way too fast!

“Kaname-kun! Your sister looks so adorable!”

Mom used Call for Backup!

Clatter! came a sound from upstairs. Seriously, Kaname… you want to see that badly? Your big brother’s honestly worried about how much you’ve changed.

Why are they making such a big fuss over a school uniform, anyway? You’ll be seeing them everywhere once April starts.

“Now, all that’s left is your father.”

“Whaaat!? Dad’s at work! You’re not seriously calling him over something this trivial!?”

“Papa says he’s coming home early.”

“That was fast! You two are way too coordinated! Is Dad’s company even okay with this!?”

“Papa has to leave early on the morning of Ayumi-chan’s entrance ceremony, so he won’t get to see her big moment.”

“That still doesn’t justify leaving early today! He can just look later!”

“Gotcha, Ayumi-neechan!”

Kaname suddenly burst into the living room, smartphone in hand. Damn it, he took a picture!

“This’ll be my new wallpaper!”

“H-hey, stop that! Having your real sister as your wallpaper is weird!”

“It’s fine. I’ll just tell people you’re my favorite idol.”

That’s not fine at all! Stop saying pointless things that only make it worse if someone finds out!

And Mom’s already asking him to send it to her! Ahh, it’s spreading through the family already…

“Besides, I just want to stay by your side, Ayumi-neechan.”

Don’t say stuff like that! It’s embarrassing!
…Though, I’m pretty sure that’s not something a brother’s supposed to say.

“I’m home.”

Dad poked his head into the living room.

Already!? How’d he get here so fast!?

“Ayumi. Papa’s so proud of you. You’ve grown up so well.”

Grown up? More like I’ve lost fifteen years of my life, shrunk, and changed genders… But somehow, looking at my dad’s teary-eyed expression, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

“Hey, hey, Ayumi-neechan! Let’s shorten your skirt a bit! It’ll look way hotter that way!”

I’d really like to meet the parents who raised a grade-schooler to talk like this.
Oh wait—they’re right in front of me.
And unfortunately, they’re my parents too.

Back when I was a boy, they weren’t like this!

“Kaname! You understand nothing!”
“That’s right, Kaname-kun, zero points for you.”

Dad and Mom scolded him. Nice—so they can discipline when it counts!

“The length of a skirt isn’t about how short it is. The balance between the visible thigh area and the slenderness of the leg—that harmony is what creates the true sacred zone.”

…Okay, taking that back. This musclebound old man just said something absolutely insane, with a straight face no less.

“That’s right, Kaname-kun. Short and sexy is fine, but this is second-rate. True excitement lies beyond that.”

Right. With parents like these, no wonder Kaname turned out this way.

“I get it now… Dad, Mom, I was wrong!”

Can we not turn this into some kind of inspiring moral story!?

While the three of them started having an in-depth discussion about my uniform, I quietly slipped away and retreated to my room.

Man, I’m exhausted… and it’s still morning.

Still in my uniform, I collapsed face-first onto my bed.