Chapter 3: Resolve

I first met him when I was three years old.

Back then, I still hadn’t fully let go of my past life—lingering regrets, the friends I’d left behind (however few there were). The dissonance between who I’d been and who I was now made me sick to my stomach more times than I could count.

To put it bluntly? I was a mess.

Now, with the benefit of hindsight, I can say for sure: I had no idea what kind of world this was back then. If I’d slipped up—if I’d acted in a way that didn’t match this cute little face—well, it’s not hard to imagine what people would’ve said.

So, yeah. I made damn sure to act my (new) age.

And then—

"Hey, what’re you doing all alone?"

"Contemplating the twilight of existence."

"Huh? What’s that?"

"A concept beyond the grasp of mere children."

"But… you are a kid?"

"I’m older than you, at least. Now shoo shoo—don’t bother me."

A little harsh? Maybe. But I don’t regret it. How could I explain myself? "Hey, I’m actually a reincarnated adult stuck in a toddler’s body, wanna be friends?" Yeah, no.

I barely even registered my new parents as parents back then. With my little sister Madoka now hogging their attention, it’s easier, but back then? My past life’s memories were too strong. Besides, in that life, my parents might as well have been ghosts.

"People can’t be trusted." That’s what I told myself. The truth? I just wanted distance.

But then this kid—

"No."

"…Hah?"

What part of "go away" did he not get? Was he too young to understand rejection? Or—

"I promised Mom I’d make a hundred friends!"

"—Pfft!"

"Nyahahaha!"

"D-Don’t laugh!!"

"S-Sorry, couldn’t help it—"

Wow. Of course there’d be one of these types around.

"So? How many’ve you got so far?"

"……Zero."

"……Huh?"

"I don’t have any friends yet!"

"And you still tried talking to me? Bold."

"Well… you were alone too, so I thought… maybe we’re the same?"

"Ah."

…I get it. I was like that when I started middle school in my past life. Wait, isn’t three way too early for this? Kids these days…

"I-I can’t talk to anyone, and—sniff—!"

Suddenly, he’s bawling. I panic.

"W-Wait, what’s your actual goal here?"

"Hic… M-Make a hundred friends…"

"Blow your nose first."

He honks into the tissue I hand him like a dying goose.

"…Fine. 99 to go. I’ll help."

I hold out my hand. He blinks at it, eyes wide, before lighting up like a firework and grabbing it. "Okay!"

"Oh, right. Never introduced myself. Edogawa Towa."

"I’m Tadano Yuuki! Nice to meet you, Towa!"

"Whoa, first-name basis already? …Eh, whatever. Nice to meet you too, Yuuki."

And that’s how our ridiculous friendship began.

But—

Yeah.

I can’t deny it.

He saved me.

"......"

I stand before the mirror and close my eyes.

It's been about three years since then, and I've always felt something strange about Yuuki. Not that there's anything wrong with him—he's outgoing despite being shy, confident yet prone to melancholy... and when he shows his serious face, even my former-male self can't help but feel a flutter.

I know Yuuki too well.

That's when I realized—he's nearly identical to the protagonist of that rom-com manga from my past life. To Tadano Yuuki from AnaKoi...

After that, everything made sense. And we grew close unnaturally fast.

Because I already knew—his favorite foods, his likes and dislikes, the places he loves, the things he enjoys doing, and who he feels most comfortable with.

Sometimes, I can't help but think: This fits too perfectly. It's almost suspicious. Like fate itself is mocking me.

"I'm just going to be Yuuki's losing heroine."

I say it out loud—if I don't, I might lose my nerve.

The reason is simple: I want to understand how my favorite losing heroine from back then must have felt. And also—

"My role in this world is to be the lubricant..."

If anyone has to suffer, let it be just me. I'll be the only losing heroine.

...First, I need to learn to love myself.

I used to hate mirrors—they made me compare myself to who I used to be.

No matter how much effort I put in, my face was something I couldn't change (short of plastic surgery). But now? I'm a beauty that could make idol girls flee in defeat.

My father's an active-duty policeman, and my mother's a former actress-model. I couldn't ask for better genes. My hair, inherited from my grandmother, is a soft flaxen blonde; my eyes, ultramarine blue. My slightly downturned eyes give me a gentle yet determined look, and the beauty mark near the corner adds a touch of allure despite my youth. A perfectly shaped nose, peach-colored lips, fair but not porcelain skin—if this keeps up, I'll grow into a real stunner.

Yet, I still feel detached from this body. Like it's not really me. Ever since I realized this world might be a manga, I sometimes lie awake at night, feeling unseen eyes watching me. What if I was never really a high schooler in my past life? What if all my memories are just fabricated backstory? The thought terrifies me.

But when I look at him, none of that matters. Because every time he does something that wasn't in the original story, it reassures me—

This world isn't just fiction.

"......"

I open my eyes.

In the mirror, a beautiful girl with an indifferent expression stares back.

This is me now.

And as I apply colorless lip balm, I think of his face—the one that, at the very least, has never looked at me with dislike.