Chapter 6: Love Brain

For some reason I don’t quite understand, it seems you need an appointment to go to a beauty salon.

So, I checked my schedule.

—No free days.

“Ugh, ugh, uuuuuugh…!”

Slumping against the hallway wall of the Army base, I groaned in defeat.

Mission tomorrow. Mission the day after. Mission the day after that. Missions, missions, missions…

Sure, schedules could change last minute if another department butted in, but that didn’t help me book an appointment.

If I couldn’t go to a beauty salon, I figured I’d at least try reading beauty magazines or cosmetics catalogs. But flipping through them felt like trying to understand the latest TCG metaand new card packs without even knowing the rules.

“P-paid leave…”

It’s not like I don’t have any.

I do have paid leave. Technically.

But, well, this is the Army.

Depending on the department, it’s not exactly the kind of place where you can just take time off whenever you feel like it. Emergencies happen.

You need to apply at least a month in advance. And even then, if the stars don’t align, it could just get canceled.

Especially now, with the main story approaching. More enemies, stronger enemies, higher stakes—peak busy season. At worst, even asking for time off might affect my evaluation—

“—Hey, what are you doing here, slacking off?”

“Wha—!?”

I whipped around.

Standing behind me was my department commander—a tall woman in a black suit, sharp-eyed and imposing as ever.

“…If you’re feeling unwell, I can contact the medical team.”

“Ah, no, that’s not it, I just wanted some time off… ah.”

I said it.

The commander narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing me.

I don’t blame her. I’ve been working my hardest to improve my standing in the Army for Lady Misora’s sake, and I’ve never made this kind of request before.

“Time off… Are you unwell? If so, the Army’s medical facilities would be more convenient than a civilian hospital. While not as potent as the universal cure, we offer comprehensive treatments combining science, magic, and the supernatural—”

“N-no, that’s not it! I’m not sick or anything, it’s just…”

“Then what is it?”

Her expression didn’t change.

Her voice was calm.

But I could feel the pressure.

If I tried to dodge the question, she’d hunt the truth down like a bloodhound.

I fidgeted with my split ends.

Then, voice barely above a whisper, I confessed.

“…Be…”

“Be?”

“Be… beauty salon… I want to go…”

“What?”

“I mean, like, if I don’t, it’ll be a problem when I meet people… it’s, um, something I really need…”

“…………”

Silence.

The commander gave me a long, unreadable look.

And then—her gaze flicked down.

To the cosmetics catalog I’d been desperately trying to hide behind my back.

My body went rigid.

Without a word, she pulled out her tablet and started checking something.

“…It’s tough to squeeze in time off at such short notice.”

“Y-y-yeah, right…! Please forget I said anything! My hair doesn’t really matter anyway—”

“You. Weren’t today’s mission postponed? Do you have any plans after this?”

“Huh…? N-no, not really…”

The commander muttered, “I see,” then turned on her heel and started walking away—without even looking back, signaling for me to follow.

I scrambled after her.

Down the hallway, out of the military facility, through the parking lot, into the car, onto the city streets…

“…???”

A high-end beauty salon?

“Uh, um…? But, I mean, don’t you need an appointment…?”

Ignoring me completely, the commander walked right in. I had no choice but to chase after her.

“Welcome! Do you have a reservation—”

“No. But I have money.”

Thud.

The unmistakable weight of a thick stack of bills landed on the counter.

I froze. So did the staff. Their wide eyes darted between the money and the commander.

But obviously, that didn’t mean they’d just say, Oh, sure, come right in!

As the flustered stylist kept stammering about how difficult it would be, the commander smoothly reached into her pocket—

—and tore off what looked like a ticket.

“‘The Very Convenient IOU: Love King’s Speech.’ A supernatural item that, under specific conditions and upon payment of an appropriate price, allows the user to temporarily bypass laws, contracts, rights, ethics, and all manner of rules and procedures to take ownership of the target. For a while, I’ll be borrowing this establishment.”

The ticket burned away into nothing.

The staff, still dazed, hesitated for a moment—then wordlessly accepted the stack of bills and guided the commander inside.

“W-wait, Commander—what are you doing!?”

“This item can’t be destroyed except by using it. I’m simply making effective use of a highly dangerous supernatural ability while disposing of it.”

“Y-you can’t just use something like that on civilians…! And there are penalties for personal use…!”

“As commander, I decide whether this counts as personal use. Now hurry up.”

W-what kind of abuse of authority is this…!?

Well, it’s true that in the game, she betrays us and becomes an enemy in the late stages, but up until then, she’s generally a serious commander.

She doesn’t get much screen time, but… I’ve never seen her pull this kind of stunt, either in the game or in this world.

Did something happen that made her want to cut loose…?

As I watched the commander casually erase the memories of the salon staff and customers with a flashy memory-altering device (seriously, didn’t that make the supernatural item completely unnecessary?), I couldn’t help but ask:

“Um… but, the money…”

“This is a termination mission for a supernatural item that requires special disposal procedures. In other words, it’s an expense. —Got it?”

“Y-yes, ma’am!”

One sharp glare shut me up completely.

I hadn’t even done anything wrong, but I still felt inexplicably guilty. I tried to make my escape—only to be grabbed by the scruff of my neck and shoved into a salon chair.

“So, how do you want it done, Arizhiro?”

“Uh, uh, um… I-I don’t know…”

“I see.”

Without hesitation, the commander turned to the stylist and rattled off a request using words that weren’t even in my vocabulary.

Before I knew it—

“Hmm. Well, this’ll do.”

“……???”

I left the salon with her, my now silky-smooth hair being idly stroked by her fingertips.

Every little movement made my head feel strangely light, and the pleasant scent of my shampoo filled my senses. It wasn’t like they’d cut it super short, but somehow, everything felt different.

The commander, her tone as cold and precise as when handling supernatural termination procedures, emotionlessly lectured me about hair maintenance.

I nodded along, still overwhelmed—until she suddenly went silent.

“Wh-what is i—ah!?”

She grabbed my chin.

Forcing me to look up, she scrutinized my face with a piercing stare.

“…I couldn’t tell before because of your bangs, but your dark circles are terrible.”

“Ah, y-yeah… um, I haven’t been sleeping well…”

“Do you have an orange-based concealer?”

“…? Con…cealer…??”

“Tch, starting from scratch, huh?”

And just like that, our next stop wasn’t the Army base—it was the cosmetics section.

—Some time later.

“—So, I’ve covered the basics of makeup. These techniques can also be used to conceal injuries. I relied on them a lot when I was in the field. Even with your healing abilities, it’s useful to prevent civilians from noticing signs of combat. Maybe I should add this to the Army’s training curriculum… Well, I’ll think about that later.”

She barely paused before continuing, as if she were briefing me on weapon maintenance.

“Unlike handling firearms, there’s no single correct answer for this. But there are key principles to avoid rookie mistakes. And Arizhiro, if you’re struggling with sleep deprivation, cut back on caffeine. You’re completely addicted. At this rate, even sleeping pills won’t work. You don’t have to quit entirely, but limit both the amount and the time you drink it. If you need to stay awake, use eye drops. And to improve blood circulation around your eyes—”

Somewhere between the lecture on makeup and the intervention for my caffeine addiction, I realized something horrifying.

I’d been kidnapped.

By my own commander.

And she wasn’t letting me go anytime soon.

After returning to the base, I was bombarded with an overwhelming flood of information—so intense it rivaled the brutal lectures I endured when I first joined the Army. By the end of it, my head was spinning.

Somehow, I managed to keep up. Following the instructions, I applied the makeup as best as I could, using cosmetics whose names I hadn’t even known until today. It was a light application, but still—

“…Ah.”

I stared at the mirror.

…Huh. This is… actually pretty nice.

I just followed the steps I was given, but with my freshly styled hair, I somehow looked more put together. The usual gloominess—the exhausted look that always clung to me—was gone.

Before, sure, I was cute, but there was always this lingering sense that I was a bit of a joke. But now… I looked like an actual, classic beauty. Like Lady Misora or Nijisaki.

It was my own face. And yet, seeing it like this made my heart race.

“Um, Commander, h-how is this…!?”

“It’s passable. Seventy points.”

“Ugh…”

Just as my newfound confidence was about to shatter, the commander grabbed my shoulders and pulled me straight.

“First, fix your posture. Straighten your back, puff out your chest. That’ll get you to eighty points.”

“Huh, ah—”

“Next, have some confidence. Stop making that gloomy face. That’ll get you to ninety.”

“B-but even if you say that—”

“Finally…”

She paused. Then—

“Even if it’s fake, smile. Just sometimes is fine. Like this.”

The commander, usually so stern, let her expression soften—just a little. A faint, gentle smile appeared on her lips.

I froze, eyes wide.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the smile was gone, and her usual sharp expression returned.

She looked at me directly, her gaze steady and unwavering—waiting, expecting.

“…L-like this?”

“Perfect.”

She nodded, satisfied, and stood up.

“Arizhiro. As the commander of the Army, there’s nothing I can do for you. Nor do I intend to.”

“…”

“But as a private individual, it’s different. Adults don’t need a reason to look after kids. Next time, just say something. I’m not good at picking up hints.”

With a final, casual, “Go home early if you don’t have anything else to do,” she turned on her heel and left, tablet in hand.

I stood there, silent.

Why does someone like her… end up betraying us?

…I wonder if Moribe-kun, the protagonist, can fix this too.

That thought lingering in my mind, I left the Army base for the day.

---

The Next Morning

I stood in front of the mirror, checking my reflection.

…It doesn’t look weird, right?

My hair, which I had always let grow without much thought, was now neatly styled.

My makeup was subtle enough to stay within school rules, and my uniform had been adjusted just enough to avoid complaints.

I let my jacket hang loosely, my skirt a little shorter. The bandages on my thighs were slightly visible, but not enough to be noticeable at a glance.

The plain school-issued ribbon had been swapped for a cute one I picked up yesterday.

Even my usual, purely functional hairpin had been replaced with something a little more stylish.

“…Ugh…”

Why am I suddenly so embarrassed?

It’s not like I haven’t dressed like a girl countless times over the past fifteen years. And it’s not like I feel particularly ashamed or uncomfortable about it now. Heck, my combat dress for missions is way flashier—and far more revealing—than this uniform.

Sure, I have my own complicated thoughts about gender, but I’ve always been satisfied with my appearance.

Even though I still have lingering perspectives from my past life as a guy, there’s no denying that being good-looking is a major plus.

I’ve even struck cute poses in front of the mirror before.

Whether it’s genetics or some side effect of my healing ability, I’ve somehow managed to maintain a certain level of cuteness despite my rough lifestyle.

So having that polished even further should be something I’m happy about.

And yet, the unfamiliar excitement bubbling up inside me feels almost overwhelming.

Honestly… I look ridiculously cute.

Until now, I’d only ever played the role of Lady Misora’s stand-in, going through the motions without truly embodying it.

But now… now, I feel like I could actually be the heroine.

I place a fist on my hip, making a peace sign near my chin while winking.

No matter what pose I try, it works. And it’s fun.

Even from a player’s perspective—if I had this character design in the game, I could definitely be the main heroine. If I were on the package, there’s a good chance people might buy it just for me.

And if I were in their shoes, I’d have a hard time staying calm if a girl like this wanted to be friends.

And Moribe-kun… well…

He’d probably fall for me, right?

“…………”

Now that I think about it… I’ve never dressed up for someone else before.

That must be why I feel so embarrassed.

Because right now, the person in the mirror looks just like a girl trying her best to look pretty for a boy she likes—

“Ugh…!”

—N-no, that’s not it. That’s gross.

Okay, if you just look at the surface, it’s not exactly wrong. But the intent behind it is completely different from what people would normally assume.

First of all, I’m a guy. And this is just something I’m doing out of necessity to get his cooperation.

That’s right. Out of necessity. Out of necessity.

I’m only doing this because I have to.

I’m really a guy. But here I am, pretending to be a girl, dressing up, trying to win over a guy… It’s disgusting. Of course I hate it. Of course it’s embarrassing.

I force myself to move. Quickly finishing the last of my preparations, I straighten my back, lift my chin, and take one final glance at my reflection before heading out the door.

On the Way to School

…Am I imagining it, or are there more eyes on me than usual?

It’s not like anyone’s outright staring, but I can feel it—the occasional second glances, the subtle shifts in attention as I walk past.

Brushing off the uneasy feeling, I keep moving forward.

When I arrive at school, I start looking for Moribe-kun.

It doesn’t take long—he’s already in the classroom. Peeking through the window of the classroom next door, I spot him at his desk, looking half-asleep.

I reach for the door, ready to call out to him—

—And then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch my own reflection in the window glass.

I freeze.

“…………”

I’m about to meet him like this.

Even objectively evaluating myself—from the perspective of someone who used to be male—I look… pretty attractive.

Compared to the other girls, I might stand out a bit, but it’s not like I look out of place or so unique that it’s off-putting.

By normal standards, there’s no problem.

Besides, this is his world. The protagonist is constantly surrounded by characters with flashier designs. Compared to them…

…I actually look kind of tame.

But compared to how I looked yesterday and how I look today… isn’t this a bit too much?

If the change had happened gradually over a week, maybe it’d be fine. But overnight? The difference is too drastic.

…He might think it’s weird.

I stood frozen in front of the door, hesitating.

Just then, a flash of blue entered my vision.

“Arizhiro-chan?”

“Ah, Nijisaki-san—”

Before I could even finish saying her name, her eyes lit up.

“—So! Cute!!”

She grabbed my hands, her voice overflowing with excitement.

“This looks amazing on you! You should always dress like this—it suits you so well!”

“Eh, b-but—”

“Hey, Moribe-kun, come here! Hurry up! Look at this, it’s incredible!” She practically dragged him over. “Come on, hurry up!”

Reluctantly, Moribe-kun responded, looking as lethargic as ever.

I instinctively tried to retreat, but Nijisaki-san had a firm grip on my wrist. Crap. Even though my level should be higher than hers, she’s STR-based. I’m a VIT build—I can’t win against her.

Then, the classroom door creaked open.

As he stepped out, our eyes met.

Moribe-kun sucked in a quiet breath.

I timidly looked up at him.

He stared, frozen for a moment… then, as if embarrassed, quickly turned away.

“Ah…”

H-he’s not weirded out, right…?

Nijisaki-san, still buzzing with excitement, didn’t stop.

“Right? She’s super cute, isn’t she!? She’s totally at a level where she could sell herself on visuals alone! You think so too, right, Moribe-kun!?”

“Ah… yeah, I guess so…”

His response was hesitant.

But he still wouldn’t look at me.

A small knot of anxiety formed in my chest. Before I even realized it, my fingers gently tugged at the edge of his sleeve.

What am I doing?

Regret flickered through me, but before I could stop myself, I asked,

“Wh-what do you think?”

Moribe-kun’s eyes finally flickered back to me.

Flustered, he quickly looked away again.

“Well… I think it’s good. You look… really cute.”

“Ah—”

His words were awkward, stumbling, laced with embarrassment…

But that’s exactly why they felt real.

A warmth bloomed in my chest, soft and overwhelming, as if someone had reached inside and gently stroked my heart.

…Ah, r-right. I need to say thank you.

The commander told me I should smile more, so I have to show that I’m genuinely happy…

But before I can even force a smile, Nijisaki-san tilts her head.

“Arizhiro-chan, is that what you look like when you smile?”

“Huh?”

I touch my face.

It’s burning.

And without even realizing it—my lips had curled into a full-blown smile.

“Ugh…!”

N-no… that’s not it!

I-it’s not because he called me cute or anything. I’m just happy that there’s a chance he’ll cooperate with me. That’s all.

Yeah, that’s it. This is purely strategic—an attempt to leverage his, the protagonist’s, power.

There’s absolutely no way I’d be happy about being called cute by a guy. In fact, it’s gross. That’s why I’ve been feeling weird since earlier. Definitely. That strange shiver down my spine? Disgust.

“Um, ah… th-thank you…! W-well, the bell’s about to ring, so—!”

Yes, exactly. The reason my face is this hot… is pure humiliation.

The humiliation of having to fawn over a guy. That’s all this is.

---

As Kizami Tokizami ran off, Moribe Sabaki stood frozen in place.

Since childhood, through school and even amid the supernatural chaos of their lives—he had never seen Kizami like that before.

That “I think it’s good.” That “You look really cute.”

What the hell was that?

She was breathtaking. Unbelievably so. His heart had stopped—maybe it still hadn’t started again.

He had always known she was beautiful. Selfishly, he had even thought that if she put in a little effort, she could be even cuter. But he hadn’t expected that.

Honestly, it was hard to believe she lacked confidence. Even acknowledging his own bias, it was obvious—she was on a completely different level.

Like Nijisaki, who naturally stood out in any crowd, Kizami had that same undeniable presence. But the difference in their caliber was almost unfair.

A beauty like that, her smile blooming so naturally—soft, genuine—only to realize it moments later, turning bright red in flustered embarrassment…

If that didn’t steal his heart, there had to be something seriously wrong with him.

“…………”

Yet, there was something nagging at him.

“…Hey, Nijisaki, why did Arizhiro suddenly…”

“Hmm? Who knows~? Why do you think~?”

Nijisaki grinned playfully, her usual mischief shining through.

Sabaki scratched his head. What is that supposed to mean?

“…Do you and Arizhiro already know about… that?”

“Huh? About what?”

Nijisaki tilted her head, looking genuinely confused.

It didn’t seem like an act. If it was, she was an incredible actress.

If they knew Sabaki was the Black Mask, why wouldn’t they press him about it? Why wouldn’t they do something about it?

If Nijisaki didn’t know, then Kizami probably didn’t either. The Corporation had better intel-gathering capabilities, but judging from what the kids said the other day, the information they got on the Black Mask wasn’t much different from what Nijisaki had.

It’s not like Kizami miraculously uncovered his identity the moment Nijisaki left.

…Which meant that smile—

That smile wasn’t for the Black Mask.

It was for him. Moribe Sabaki.

“(…But what did I even do for her?)”

He racked his brain, trying to figure it out.

…He lent her his jersey.

Wait. No.

Sabaki’s thoughts race. No, no, no. Wait, wait, wait…

Is it really just because of that?

(This… this is way too easy…!)

This is bad.

If someone that beautiful can be swayed so easily, then what’s stopping her from falling for some smooth-talking bastard in the future? She’s going to get tricked. He’s going to get tricked.

Sabaki jolts to his feet, anxiety thrumming through his body. Unable to sit still, he turns to Nijisaki.

“Hey, Nijisaki, about Arizhiro—”

“I know, I know, leave it to me, okay?”

…Does she really know?

Sabaki looks at her, confusion and unease swirling in his eyes.

And then, with a bold grin, Nijisaki holds up two tickets.