Chapter 8: Beautiful Girl Meets Her Best Friend

A shrill electronic alarm filled the room.

I woke up. Six-thirty in the morning.

Through the curtains, warm spring sunlight streamed in.

I sat up and looked down at myself—my faintly budding chest, small hands, long hair. This wasn’t a dream. I was still a girl.

So no, I hadn’t magically turned back into a boy overnight. I was very much still female.

Why was I even up so early during spring break—the blissful moratorium before high school? Not because I was a wholesome early riser, that’s for sure.

It was because I had to make breakfast.

Correction: I was made to make breakfast.

Mom had been pushing hard to drill housework and cooking into me.

Cooking was fine—I actually kind of enjoyed it—but laundry was a real pain.

I mean, why did I have to hang someone else’s underwear? The fact that Mom had been doing that all these years without complaint… she was amazing.

Incidentally, the day I muttered, “Ugh, why do I have to hang Dad’s underwear?” while helping out—and Dad overheard—was a disaster.

He got visibly depressed and left for work without touching his breakfast.

I felt bad, so that evening I made his favorite dinner and even poured him beer. He burst into tears, which only made things more awkward.

…Anyway, time wasn’t going to stop for my reminiscing.

I quickly changed and went to the bathroom to deal with my bedhead. Looking presentable mattered now.

Day three, and I was already getting used to being a girl. Somehow, that was disappointing.

Dad had left for work, and Kaname had gone out to play with friends.

After clearing the breakfast dishes and washing up, I was lazing on the living room sofa when—

"Ayumi-chan, phone call. It’s from Ryouji-kun."

"Okay!"

Ryouji… Tagawa Ryouji.

He was the one and only guy I’d actually been close to during middle school.

Back in first year, when I was always by myself, this kind, good-looking guy had taken pity on me and struck up a conversation.

For some reason, we just clicked. Ever since then, we’d hung out together.

"Hello? Ryouji? It’s me."

"Huh? Ayumu?"

Crap. I’d answered too naturally, and only realized afterward what I’d just said.

Right. My voice was higher now—completely different from before.

"Uh, yeah… it’s Ayumu?"

"Why are you saying that like you’re not sure?"

The truth was, my name was Ayumu, but now publicly I was Ayumi. Should I even call myself Ayumu anymore?

Wait…

"Ryouji, you remember that I used to be a guy?!"

"What are you talking about? …Well, actually, I should say: I remember, yeah. But you do realize everyone else thinks you’re a girl now, right? So that means—you’re really a girl right now?"

"Ugh… I hate to admit it, but yeah. Looks like I am."

Still, it was such a relief. Ryouji remembered.

My family was so weird, I’d half-convinced myself that maybe I was the crazy one, hallucinating that I’d ever been male.

But no—Ryouji remembered. Which meant I really had been a boy. Thank god. Nothing was solved, but still.

"You always had kind of a girly face. Maybe you’re just half-asleep and confused?"

"If I’ve been half-asleep for three days straight, that’s a record."

"Ah, so it started three days ago? Then yeah, no way you’re imagining it."

"Exactly. Unfortunately."

"Unfortunate? I dunno. You always got teased for having a girly face. Didn’t you even get love letters? Honestly, it probably makes more sense now."

"Ugh, don’t bring up the love letter. That was traumatic."

Once in middle school, I’d gotten a love letter from a male classmate.

At first, I thought it was some kind of prank. But when Ryouji dug up info on the sender, it turned out the guy had been totally serious. Which made it worse—absolutely terrifying.

I managed to reject him, but yeah… not something I ever wanted to relive.

"My bad. Forget it. Anyway, boy or girl doesn’t matter. Want to hit the arcade today?"

"Man… you really don’t sweat the details, do you?"

That was how he’d been able to approach lonely me in the first place, and how he could still talk to me normally now. For that, I was grateful.

The arcade, huh? I wanted to go, but honestly, I didn’t feel like showing myself in public like this.

I was about to turn him down when—

Mom suddenly appeared beside me, holding up a memo pad.

It read: “Go have fun. No arguments allowed.”

…What even.

I sighed. But fine. If I stayed home, I’d just end up doing more chores.

"Okay, I’ll go. What time do you want to meet?"

"Hmm. Our houses are close, so I’ll just come over there. Get ready."

"Got it. I’ll be waiting then."

"…Wow. I didn’t know it was possible for just a voice to make my heart skip like that."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. I’ll head over in like thirty minutes."

"Alright."

"See ya."

He hung up.

I immediately turned to Mom.

"So… why do I have to go again?"

"Because you’ll struggle when high school starts if you’re not used to going out. And better to show yourself to Ryouji-kun sooner rather than later, right?"

Ugh. Fair point. I couldn’t just avoid him forever.

Ryouji was going to the same high school as me this spring.

And since he remembered me as a boy, it was probably better to show him the “new me” sooner rather than later.

If I waited until the first day of school, it’d be way too much of a shock—“Surprise! Your best friend turned into a girl!” That’s not just a school debut, that’s nuclear.

Even knowing all that, though… actually facing him like this was nerve-wracking.

So I spent the next thirty minutes fidgeting restlessly, waiting for Ryouji to arrive.

Thirty minutes later, Ryouji arrived.

The intercom buzzed.

At this point, I really didn’t feel like showing myself anymore, but Mom urged, “Go on, answer it,” so I reluctantly headed to the door.

"Good morning, Ryouji."

I opened the door and greeted him.

Ryouji just stared at me, dumbfounded.

"Eh… Ayumu?"

"Yeah, it’s me. Weird?"

For the record, today’s outfit was a white, long-sleeved shirt-dress paired with hot pants, topped with black over-the-knee socks, and accented with a plaid scarf.

When I first tried the shirt on, I thought it was way too big, like I’d picked the wrong size. But no, apparently that’s how it was supposed to fit.

It hung all the way down to my thighs, covering the shorts so much that it practically looked like I wasn’t wearing any at all.

"Weird? More like dead-center bullseye!"

"What does that even mean?"

"I mean, you were already kind of cute-faced, but this? This is way too cute! Totally unfair, man!"

"Why are you yelling at me like it’s my fault?"

"Sorry, sorry. Just… you’re still Ayumu, right?"

I nodded.

For some reason, Ryouji reached out and started patting my head.

"What are you doing?"

"Ah, nothing. Your head’s just at the perfect height now, so I felt like patting it."

Ryouji was about 170 cm, so yeah, there was quite the height difference between us now.

And… okay, I had to admit, being patted like this actually felt kind of nice.

"Whoops, got carried away. But, uh, the look on your face just now—dangerous."

"Huh? Was it weird?"

"No, more like I’m the one in danger here."

"Excuse me?"

Ryouji was seriously acting strange today.

The arcade was near the station, so we needed bikes to get there.

I left him waiting outside and hauled my bicycle out from the back.

Holy crap—it was huge. And heavy.

"Uh… Ayumu, you think you can even ride that?"

Panting, I dragged it over, and Ryouji gave me a skeptical look.

"I… I think so. If I lower the seat."

I adjusted the saddle as far down as it would go. My feet could just barely touch the ground.

But when I climbed on, the reach to the handlebars felt awful. My arms were stretched way too far.

"Ow. Yeah, this is murder on the arms."

"Looks impossible."

Great. I hadn’t expected this to be the obstacle. If I couldn’t ride this thing, getting to high school was going to be rough.

While I was worrying, Ryouji slapped the back of his own bike’s cargo rack.

"Eh, you’re saying I can ride there?"

"Of course! Totally fine! Honestly, this is like a dream scenario. Hurry up and hop on!"

How exactly was I supposed to sit? Side-saddle? Or straddle it?

Straddling seemed more stable.

So I climbed on, legs dangling, which made me wobble a bit. Not sure where to hold, I ended up clinging to Ryouji from behind.

"Yesssss! She’s hugging me! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Why are you saying that out loud? You’re creeping me out."

"She’s soft, she smells good… this is heaven! I feel like I could set a world record today!"

"Just drive safely, please."

"Leave it to me! Alright, let’s go!"

Ryouji started pedaling. His body swayed with each push, so I clutched him tighter to avoid being thrown off.

"Uh, Ayumu-san?"

"What?"

"As much as I love this, if you keep hugging me that tight, uh… with your chest pressing in, I’m kinda… in trouble here."

"In trouble how?"

"…Forget it. If you don’t get it, it’s fine. And if you ever do figure it out, just think, ‘He’s a boy after all,’ and let it slide, okay?"

"You are a boy, Ryouji."

Seriously, what was with his mood today?

And so, clinging to Ryouji, I got carried off to the station-front arcade.

Along the way, we drew way too many stares. I was starting to think maybe the two-on-a-bike thing hadn’t been the best idea.