Chapter 1

"Ah! Mimosa’s eyes are open!! Mimosa! Mimosa!! It’s me, Mom!!"

When I opened my eyes, a woman I’d never seen before was leaning over my face.

Being yelled at point-blank the moment I woke up scared the hell out of me, and before I could even process it, this woman was clutching me and crying, keeping me pinned where I lay. I had no idea what was going on.

Wait—who the hell is Mimosa? Some foreigner? I’m obviously 100% Japanese, but this lady crying on me has brown hair and looks foreign herself.

While I sat there frozen in confusion, unable to move—

"Mimosa-chan’s awake? Really! I brought the doctor!!"

"Ohh!! It’s true!! Mimosa-chan’s eyes are open!!"

"Go get Orza! He should be out in the fields!!"

—foreign-looking people I’d never met before suddenly swarmed into the room where I was lying.

Wait. This isn’t my room.

"Do you know where you are, or who you are?"

Still clutched by the woman, I glanced around. A plump, white-haired man with glasses spoke to me gently. Everyone else—starting with the woman—was so worked up, crying or shouting at the sight of me, that his calm voice actually felt like a lifeline.

"Uh, yeah, I’m not really sure what’s going on…"

I muttered aloud. Up until now I’d been swept along by this weird situation since waking up, but then it hit me—why was I even asleep in the first place?

"Oh, right. I fell… off a rooftop, didn’t I?"

Memory fragments flickered back. Me in a security guard uniform. A man screaming at the edge of a rooftop. Me grabbing him as he tried to jump, throwing him back onto the floor—then losing my balance and flying into open air myself.

That same floating sensation crawled back into my body, making me shiver.

"No—you were trying to pick nuts and fell off a cliff."

"Huh?"

The plump man smiled gently. A moment ago that smile had felt like a relief, but now it sent a shiver down my spine.

No, no, no. I fell from a skyscraper, not a cliff. And I’ve never even climbed a tree in my city life.

Wait… surviving a fall from that height—is that even possible?

"And you’ve been unconscious for ten years."

"Excuuuuse meee!?"

Ten years in a coma!? Then, uh—how old am I? Wait, I can’t quite remember…

"There’s no point panicking. Right now, you’re fourteen."

"No, no, no! I don’t remember clearly, but I’m definitely older than that!!"

"…Mimosa…?"

I couldn’t help snapping back at the man’s words. Suddenly the mood shifted. The woman clinging to me stopped crying and stared into my face with an anxious expression. All the others, who’d been noisy a moment ago, were now exchanging worried glances and whispering.

Uh, what? Did I say something wrong? And seriously—what the hell is ‘Mimosa’?

Just as I was thinking of bolting from this suffocating weirdness—

"MIMOSAAAAA!! It’s your fatherrrrrr!!"

"Gyaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!"

With a thunderous crash, the room’s wall exploded inward. A massive jet-black bear—easily two meters tall—burst into the room, swinging its savage claws as it charged.

That was the last straw for my already-overloaded brain. Everything went black.

"Her memory is confused. That’s natural. Everyone needs to help her adjust slowly to the situation."

"I got carried away… I’m sorry."

"I… I lost it too…"

I woke to the sound of the plump man’s voice, another man I hadn’t heard before, and the woman from earlier sniffling through tears.

Remembering the awkward atmosphere from before, I thought about pretending to stay asleep—or just sinking back under—but her quiet sobs made me restless. Before I knew it, my eyes were open.

I was back in the same room as before.

A small bed beneath me. A little wooden dresser. A few odds and ends. The whole place was simple—kind of country style, like a dollhouse room a girl might like.

Wait. I’d clearly heard voices, but there was no one here. This room was far too small for three adults to hide in…

Curious, I leaned forward—and felt hair sway softly against my shoulder.

Heh. Guess being bedridden left my hair to grow wild…

I chuckled and grabbed a handful of it.

Wait.

Why the hell is it brown? And for hair that’s supposedly gone wild, it’s ridiculously silky—and it smells… amazing?

That’s when I finally noticed the strange feeling in my body.

"Wh—whaaaat the hell!? Why do I have boobs!?"

Through the white, clean, dress-like clothes I wore, my hands pressed against a soft pair of mounds, just the right size to fill my palms. I’d actually grabbed them without thinking.

"Mimosa!! You’re awake!?"

With her eyes swollen from crying, the woman from before rushed into the room—and found me, clutching my own chest, staring back at her.

It had been a few days since that shocking awakening.

Now I was living life as a girl named Mimosa.

According to the plump, bespectacled man—the village doctor—I was a girl named Mimosa who had fallen off a cliff at the age of four, hit my head, and stayed unconscious for ten years. The woman who had clung to me when I woke up was my mother—Mimosa’s mother. And as unbelievable as it still sounded, that gigantic bear who had burst through the wall was apparently my dad.

Turns out this village is home to a race called beastkin—and I’m one too.

Some look no different from humans. Some have animal ears and tails on otherwise human bodies. Some are full-on beasts walking on two legs. The closer someone’s form is to an animal, the “purer” their blood is said to be, and the stronger their physical abilities compared to a human’s.

When beastkin are born, they appear in animal form, and as they grow, they gain the ability to shift freely between forms. Back in the old days, it was considered stylish to stay in beast form, but nowadays it’s more fashionable to look human—so the younger folks mostly take human shape.

As for me—my dad’s a bear, my mom’s a raccoon dog, and I’m… a dog. No clue how that genetics worked out. When I overheard voices from the next room so clearly after waking up the second time, that was apparently thanks to my dog senses.

Both of my parents usually live in human form. Mom is plump and warm, with a smile that makes her look friendly. Dad is broad-shouldered and sturdy, like a serious country farmer. They told me that on the day I woke up, Dad panicked and lost control, rampaging in his beast form.

And me…

The first thing I did, once I could move freely again, was head to the lake to check my reflection.

What I saw was a girl with soft, short brown hair, and flopped-over dog ears a little darker than the hair on my head. A childish, round face—taking after Mom—that seemed to show my emotions too clearly, looking pitiful at that moment. Round green eyes, plump cheeks. Not exactly beautiful, but honestly cute enough.

The lake couldn’t reflect it, but sticking out of a special hole in my skirt was a fluffy tail, curled at the tip, hanging limply just like my ears.

And it’s not like I have a thing for dog-eared, tail-wagging girls or anything.

I just… couldn’t pull them in. I mean literally. I couldn’t retract them.

Because I spent ten years unconscious, I can’t control my beastkin body properly. My ears and tail won’t retract, but at the same time, I can’t transform into a full dog either.

In an age when most take on full human forms, and the “old-fashioned stylish” ones live as two-legged beasts, the only people with ears and tails sticking out are little kids who haven’t mastered transformation yet—or eccentric types who like being different. I, on the other hand, am stuck as a dog-eared, tail-toting girl with no say in the matter.

And here’s the kicker—the most important point:

I have none of Mimosa’s memories. I’m living as a girl, but my mind is still that of a guy.

I fell off that cliff when I was four—way too young to remember anything clearly. And yet, I still retain fragments of my previous life as a man. Even those memories are fuzzy, but I do recall being an adult man, a security guard (not at home), and dying in that rooftop accident.

So my memories are hazy—both as Mimosa and as my former self—but my parents and the villagers all accepted me warmly regardless.

Back when I was still in shock, I spilled everything. That I had no memories as Mimosa. That I still thought of myself as a guy. All of it—blurted out to the very parents who were rejoicing that their daughter’s consciousness had returned after ten years!

Later, when I calmed down, I realized what a heartless, monstrous thing I’d done. I could have kept it to myself. I could have revealed it slowly, bit by bit. I could have softened it, sugarcoated it. There were a million better ways.

But my parents accepted it all. To them, none of that mattered compared to their daughter finally waking up. They even worried about me—told me I didn’t have to force myself to act like a girl, that I shouldn’t strain myself trying to “be Mimosa.” They said I should just do whatever felt easiest.

And when they said that, I couldn’t help but want to live as their daughter, to do my best for them.

So I decided. I’m fourteen, I’m a girl, and my name is Mimosa. I’ll live as their daughter.

Of course, the confusion and discomfort haven’t gone away. Having a small but nicely shaped, bouncy chest that’s mine. Not having anything hanging between my legs anymore. Wearing skirts, calling myself “watashi” in front of people—every time I do, I get goosebumps. But… this is for my parents.

And so, wrestling with that constant strangeness, I’ve spent the last few days as Mimosa.

"Wh-what!? A heat cycle!?"