54. I Didn’t See Anything!
What started as a light drizzle became thick sheets of rain crashing into us by the time we weren’t even halfway down the mountain.
Yukio significantly reduced his speed—not that it helps with the spray but I guess otherwise we might crash.
And what was a nice refreshing breeze on our way up, now is a bitingly cold wind with my soaked through t-shirt and pants.
Like some sort of wet heat-seeking leech I cling to Yukio, who I hear over the rain yelling back at me, that the house of his parents is about as far as the train station and that’s probably better than sending me home as I am.
I voice my agreement, because fuck spending half an hour on the train dripping water, doesn’t sound appealing at all. Not to mention the time on the subway afterwards.
That’s just my luck isn’t?
It was so nice.
Yes, we could’ve checked the forecast but I was a bit distracted in the morning and it looked fine. These clouds blanketing the sky came in really fast okay!?
I press myself closer to Yukio.
This sucks.
I didn’t wanted it to end so soon.
The drive isn’t long. Yukio wasn't exaggerating when he said he lived close by. Having the train station near him is what probably what makes his commute to work bearable, I assume, because otherwise it’s a long way.
His parent’s house isn’t big and looks old. Not that it’s rundown or anything, more rustic in that built during a different era vibe. My Grandma in my old life had a similar one.
He pulls into the driveway and we get off, luckily the helmet kept most of my hair dry, besides the tips.
Through the door and out of our shoes, he guides me straight to the bathroom, a small tiled thing. We both left a trail of tiny water droplets in the narrow hallway on our way in.
Yukio laughs for some reason, before looking down on me.
“You can get yourself warmed up with a nice bath and I’ll get you a shirt to borrow, and some pants, probably need a belt for you.”
“I don’t need a bath. I’m not that cold.”
“Ya sure? I just saw you shiver right now.”
“Yes! I’m not that frail. I just need to get out these wet clothes and into something dry, then I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so konbini boy. Be right back.”
With that Yukio’s large frame leaves the small room. He closes the door behind him.
I didn’t get this easily cold before, did I?
Another girl puberty thing?
Dad once told me that women get cold easily and that’s why mom was constantly wearing her sweater. Didn’t believe him at the time, but I guess it’s true.
That’s stupid.
Don’t like that.
I feel the shiver Yukio mentioned.
I need to get out this stuff!
My attention gets caught by the reflection in the mirror off to the side. With the wet oversized t-shirt clinging to my body you can totally see the curves I’ve been developing over the past months, mainly the hips. Not that it is a lot but it’s noticeable and with my thin pretty boy build they’re twice as noticeable. Thankfully my chest is hidden beneath the sports bra, even if the wet fabric of the t-shirt falls kinda weird because of it.
I feel my lip quivering and hands trembling and my eyes travel all on their own towards the bathtub.
No! I’m not that weak! I’m not!
I don’t need a stupid bath to warm me up!
It’s just this soaked bra feels like a icepack around my chest, once I’m free of it I’ll be fine!
With effort I wiggle out of my big shirt which lands with a squelching sound on the floor tiles.
Almost free.
Next: the important piece.
How does one take off a way too tight, completely wet, sports bra with ease?
I wager one doesn’t.
And having comparably broad shoulders doesn’t help. Even if my new body is a lot better than the one from my previous life. If I get just little more hips I might even call it acceptable.
I hook my finger under the band.
I hear the door behind me.
I freeze.
There's a breathy half swallowed, “I didn’t see anything,” full of panic from Yukio before the door slams shut with a bang.
『 . . . 』
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!
Shit!
I had my back to him and hadn’t lifted my bra yet, but still.
What guy just walks in on a girl he knows is undressing herself? He could’ve just left the stuff by the door!
(ᵕ—ᴗ—)
…
I’m a guy…
…not a girl.
Fuck, I’m so freaking stupid!
I fully expected him to knock or something. What kind of next level idiot am I exactly? He was just sharing some clothes with his bro, no different from any locker room. So why wouldn’t he come in?
Ugh!
I really don’t want to explain pills that give you a girl-puberty to Yukio, but I guess I have to suck it up.
It's going to be so embarrassing. I don't want this.
Afterwards he’ll drop me as a friend. I know it. You can’t tell guys these things, they never get it and even girls laugh.
Not that I was ever stupid enough to say my wish out loud in my old life. Didn’t need to, everyone made it abundantly clear what they’d think of me if I would. I was able to see their disgust pretty clearly for people like that. What mom said and dad and the girls at school. Kept my mouth shut!
Whatever, I’ll get through this.
Keep my head down.
None of this will matter once I have the [※MAGICAL SEX-CHANGE DEVICE 3000※]. Then I get to be myself and move to somewhere where no-one knows of my past and I can forget all this.
I throw my sports bra to the ground next to my t-shirt.
Behind me on the floor lays a dry t-shirt from Yukio and a pair of black pants.
My guy just dropped them during his hurried escape.
I scoop it off the floor and put it on.
Hu, it’s fresh, but it smells like him. Smells like guy. I did smell like that once, thankfully not anymore.
The shirt is almost as oversized as the one I nabbed from my big brother.
I exchange my soaked jeans for Yukio’s pants. They’re too long and sit really awkwardly on my hips.
No helping it. I roll up the legs and fold my wet clothes to a somewhat presentable stack before I go for the door.
Time to face the music.
Out in the hallway it isn't Yukio who is waiting for me, but a middle aged woman who’s equally as sturdy. She locks eyes with me, halfway out the bathroom, stunned.
“Miss Katsumi, would you like some dry clothes you could borrow?”
“Uh… uhm… that’s too k-k-kind of you Mrs. Itakura, but Yukio already got me some.”
She closes the space between us blocking the hallway. A slightly pitiful smile on her face as she holds eye contact to say, “I can see your nipples girl.”
(๑﹏๑//)
I glance down, knowing she is correct before I even see it. They're clearly visible underneath the fabric.
In a flash my arms wrap around my chest and my face heats up from utter embarrassment and some very important pathways in a my brain go up in flames.
I’m holding my breasts, like they’re mine, and they’re soft and sensitive.
AND WUAH!!!!?
I have like genuine breasts.
I never touched them before like this!
Outside my mess of a mind Mrs. Itakura sighs, and turns around.
Don't leave me!
The invitation is clear, I’m supposed to follow.
Tentatively, with my arms still trying to protect my modesty, I follow. I feel so extremely vulnerable all of a sudden.
We go upstairs. It’s a rather humble house full of narrow hallways and small rooms. Everything is clean and yet has this sickly sepia off-white tone that speaks to its age.
We enter a bedroom and Mrs. Itakura starts going through the wall-spanning wardrobe.
“My niece stayed over for a week last year and forgot some of her clothes. Hasn’t picked them up yet. So I'd like to think she wouldn’t object to you borrowing them for a day or two. They should be around your size. Don’t worry, I washed them.”
I watch with some dread as she produces a cute bra in pastel pink and a peach colored top with lace trim and a low square neckline.
Her gaze sweeps over me top to bottom.
“Miss Katsumi would prefer something else?” she points at the ill fitting pants I’m wearing.
I want to shake my head at first but nod instead.
An ankle length cream skirt joins the top and the bra lying atop the bed.
“I’ll leave you to it. Join us downstairs whenever you’re ready.”
The implication is clear, no-one will walk in on me this time.
She leaves me alone with a bunch of very feminine clothing that makes it very obvious—if the way she addressed and treated me wasn’t enough—that she thinks of me as a girl.
Which I can’t exactly blame her for, because unless I drop my underpants or show her my drivers license it’s a hard point to refute given, well… everything I’ve got going on.
The moment she called me 'miss' I immediately switched up how I talked and referred to myself. Like some kind of reflex that I can finally drop doing the guy-talk thing, which if I’m being honest I haven’t exactly been consistent on.
I’m not even sure anymore where my natural pitch is.
It’s all so muddled.
I let my face fall into my hands.
What am I even doing?
I peak at the clothes on the bed.
Whoever this niece is, she has a serious eye for cute clothing.
I can’t say they aren’t far more appealing than Yukio’s large t-shirt and the pants that won’t sit right. They’re really pretty and cute.
Whatever! I want to wear the cute clothes, okay!?
And Yukio already thinks whatever he thinks, cats out of the bag, and it’s not like I can actually save myself by only taking the bra and stubbornly holding on to his clothes.
The t-shirt and pants get thrown to the ground with fervor.
I pick up the bra and start fiddling with it, adjusting the straps. I've never worn one like this before, one that, uh… looks like it’d actually fit my current size. Also it has padding.
Next the top goes on and the skirt, it’s one where you have to tie the waistband with a cute bow so it doesn’t slide.
I give it a little twirl.
So nice! ⋆˚✿˖°
A full spin.
So cute! ₊˚♡
Real bummer that there isn’t a mirror in here, but everything sits nicely. Maybe the top is a bit tight but not too much. I look down on my chest, the neckline is lower than I’m comfortable with and thanks to the padding in the bra it looks like I have some actual cleavage.
Can’t argue that I don’t have boobs right now, or that they’re fake.
I leave and make my way downstairs.
At the bottom I'm greeted by Mrs. Itakura and Yukio, who was leaning against the wall prior to my arrival, but perks up the moment I come into view.
Both their eyes go wide, making the blush creep back into my cheeks. A soft glow.
A bright smile replaces Mrs. Itakura's initial shock,
“Well, I might have to tell my niece I've lost her clothes. I think they found a new, better suited, home.”
The praise within those words has me reeling for a second. I look good, so much so that she saw the need for a compliment. A pleasant fluttering fills my heart.
I saunter up to Yukio to give him a warm smile, trying to convey that I’m grateful that he let me save face and hasn’t thrown me out or anything.
He hasn’t abandoned his wide eyed stare, instead as I come closer I can see his gaze wander and fixate on my chest.
My guy! I can see that!
Don’t make it so obvious! That’s rude!
Before I can do anything about it, Mrs. Itakura's voice comes from the side, which thankfully snaps Yukio to attention.
“I’ll make you kids some soup to warm you up.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose. It really isn’t necessary Mrs. Itakura, but thank you.”
“Nonsense, I insist. I can’t well let leave like this. What if you'd catch a cold?”
I give a tiny bow, “Thank you, it’s very kind of you.”
We go after her.
Yukio doesn’t say a word.
The soup is prepared easily enough and after a rather lengthy back and forth, I successfully get Mrs. Itakura to let me help her. A hard won victory for sure, but I wasn’t letting her cook for me and letting me borrow clothes without lending a hand. It wouldn't have been right.
A stout and very lively Mr. Itakura joins us at the table, and Yukio fidgets awkwardly to introduce me properly. Which pulls my whole dubious gender into focus for a split-second but Mr. Itakura doesn’t seem to notice. It might be awkward but I can't help myself, I have to smile at the absurdity of the situation.
There is the usual probing of what I do, and I tell Yukio’s parents that I work at the konbini next to him and that I hunt demons at night.
Which gets me a veiled lecture that it isn’t proper for a young woman and surely there must be a better job on the horizon.
So I start telling them how I saved Tarō and Rin and how I helped all the elderly people with their minor demon infestations, how there are good deeds to be done, which completely flips their opinion on the whole matter.
It's so easy.
After the warming meal, we fall into a drawn out goodbye, and as I’m about to ask for an umbrella to make my way to the station, Mrs. Itakura gives Yukio an anything-but-subtle nudge, which leads to him offering to drive me instead with their car.
I want to but know better than to refuse with his mother watching.
I’ve put my guy through enough as is.
There is a second goodbye to Mrs. Itakura and Mr. Itakura, and then we are finally out the door.
The Itakura family car isn’t small but in comparison to the luxury of Miori’s sleek business sedan or Kaori’s sports car it feels quaint. An air of normality.
Taking the passenger seat, I give Yukio a sympathetic smile.
“Sorry for that,” he mumbles, “they can be a lot.”
“No, it’s fine they were very sweet.”
“Yes… well… I never had a…”
“What?”
“Uh a… friend over.”
That can't be true.
There was probably some sort of modifier supposed to go before 'friend', like 'female' or 'girl'. Not that those would actually apply to me if we're being honest, but I'm aware of my appearance at the moment.
Yukio starts driving.
He is unusually quiet. Maybe he is too focus on driving, so I pick up the thread that formed in my head earlier today about roller coasters and amusement parks.
His answers are very short, but yes apparently there are at least two parks with roller coasters. I express my desire to go and then start gushing about the aquarium and the exhibits they had, and the cute Nautilus tank were they were going around in circles and how that one was bumping into the other and then I tell him about all the plushies they had at the gift shop and I don't stop.
The words flow out of me.
And suddenly I see familiar streets and with a bit of navigation from me, we soon find ourselves close to my apartment block.
Time flies when you're with friends.
He stops the car and turns off the engine, his eyes pointed straight ahead.
“Uh, something wrong Yukio? You aren’t this quiet usually.”
We haven’t talked about me wearing girl clothes or looking like a girl, for which I’m honestly really grateful for, because I don’t wanna talk about it. I so don't want to talk about it. NOPE! I don’t have any good explanations, at least not any that others can understand.
He shoots me a glance before looking away again.
“It’s weird man.” He takes a sharp breath, as if he has to psych himself up, "You are like, always so down-beaten and have this cold pent up anger. And I get it man, shit’s depressing and life sucks… the one time I ever saw you like, smile for real was when you summoned that sword the night we met. So I didn’t say shit when you came in with clothes that looked like you came within a hair’s breath of death. Because it was the one thing that seemed to make you happy. And I thought I could cheer you up today. Didn't seem to work.”
There is a long silence.
He isn’t looking at me.
The rain continues to pound the car.
The world beyond lies obscured by the water running past the windows.
His voice is low, “Then you came down… the stairs looking like… and since then… dude, you’ve been nothing but smiles and you’re all happy and bubbly and suddenly talk a lot and it’s weird man. It’s weird.”
“Am I not allowed to be happy?”
He presses his arms against the steering wheel and finally looks in my direction.
“Dude it’s like you’re a completely different person.”
“Am not. And you don't have to be all quiet all of a sudden, just talk to me.”
“But you are! Also you’re…”
“What?!” I snap.
Everyone else keeps saying it, so why can’t he?
I raise my voice. “Just say it!”
He fixates his eyes onto the dashboard but says nothing.
He isn't going to say it, is he?
Yeah, whatever.
Fuck this!
“Thanks for the ride.” I huff before stepping out into the rain.