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Join the ServerI had a plan of action, temporarily named ‘Eternal Best Friends, an Unbreakable Alliance‘.
It sounded a bit chuunibyou (TL Note: A Japanese term describing a teenager who acts like they have secret powers or a hidden destiny, often seen as childish or overly dramatic.), but it encapsulated my unwavering resolve.
My friendship with Hayato, Aoyama Ren’s friendship, was an unyielding fortress.
No one, under any circumstances, could sever the profound bond we shared.
So, there was nothing to fear; there was no room for hesitation.
“…”
Yet, the moment my right hand closed around the doorknob, I felt an undeniable tremor of doubt.
‘Aoyama Ren, your conviction is faltering!’
Flashes of my first kiss flickered through my mind, and I swallowed a dry lump in my throat.
On the doorstep, Little Black Cat Lingling tilted his head, seemingly asking why I had stopped.
This was not cowardice, nor timidity; even a brave hero, poised to vanquish the Demon King, might pause for a moment of contemplation, wouldn’t they?
Firstly, I could argue that a kiss without a tongue involved didn’t truly count.
Secondly, if a mere brush of lips constituted a kiss, then my first kiss had undoubtedly been given to my mother long ago.
Finally, even conceding a million steps, the ‘me’ who manifested as a Magical Girl bore no true relation to the me named Aoyama Ren.
My ultimate conclusion was that I had committed no act of betrayal against Hayato.
Therefore, my first kiss remained intact, and while I had no idea if Hayato had been secretly kissing some unknown philanderers behind my back, what business was Hayato’s romantic life of mine…?
Right?
I simply needed to open the door with my head held high and, as always, join my family for dinner.
As I twisted the doorknob, I softly murmured, “I’m home,” while Little Black Cat Lingling, his curiosity piqued, trotted ahead of me into the living room.
The house was a typical ikko-date (TL Note: A detached, single-family home common in Japan.), quite spacious, boasting three floors and exquisite decor.
After all, both parents were still actively working, commanding substantial incomes, and their respective social standings as a teacher and a doctor were undeniably respectable.
Perhaps it was precisely these fortunate circumstances that allowed them the means, beyond raising Hayato, to adopt me and welcome me into the Watanabe household.
Nearly eight years had since elapsed.
Hayato’s mother, originally named Takahashi Chinatsu, changed her name to Watanabe Chinatsu after marrying Uncle Watanabe.
Uncle Watanabe, named Watanabe Naoshi, was a doctor who, both in his very name and his reassuring demeanor, instilled a profound sense of trustworthiness.
Remarkably, even Uncle Watanabe’s bald head seemed to offer a peculiar comfort to his patients.
Given the demands of his profession, he frequently worked overtime performing surgeries, usually returning home looking utterly exhausted, a true shachiku (TL Note: A Japanese term referring to a ‘corporate s*ave,’ someone overworked and exploited by their company.) in every sense.
According to Aunt Chinatsu, she and my mother had shared a deep friendship, which was why our two families had often visited each other.
It was during those frequent interactions that I first met Hayato.
Come to think of it, the set of building blocks Hayato and I used to play with so often seems to be tucked away in a box beneath my bed; I can’t even recall when I ‘liberated’ them from Hayato.
In exchange, I had gifted Hayato my collection of dinosaur figurines.
Why did I make such a trade back then?
The incident occurred so long ago that the memory has become rather hazy.
Watanabe Naoshi, his bald crown glinting faintly, lay sprawled on the sofa, emitting soft, rhythmic snores.
The screen of his phone on the coffee table periodically flickered to life, while a soccer match played on the television, its commentator’s voice steadily escalating in fervor, yet utterly failing to rouse the weary middle-aged man.
“Uncle, you’ve been working so hard lately…”
‘Could this truly be the ultimate repose awaiting all middle-aged men?’
I had once seen Hayato’s parents’ wedding photograph; in it, they were in the vibrant bloom of their youth, adorned in a pristine white wedding gown and a perfectly tailored suit, surrounded by vivid red roses, and most importantly, radiant with overflowing, sweet smiles.
Given Watanabe Naoshi’s fondness for sports, Hayato and I, by sheer osmosis, would occasionally stay up late with Uncle during holidays to watch soccer games.
Though, without fail, Aunt Chinatsu would deliver a stern lecture the following morning.
‘…Why did my burgeoning sense of guilt only grow more oppressive?’
‘It was precisely because I cherished my time with Hayato that ‘that’ action was utterly unforgivable!’
‘That… that particular incident.’
“Ren, are you feeling down today?”
Stepping into the kitchen, I began placing the ingredients for tomorrow’s bento and breakfast into the refrigerator.
Aunt Chinatsu stood before the stove, clad in her apron, her perceptive eyes fixed upon me.
Beyond Hayato, Aunt Chinatsu was perhaps the one who understood me best; even before my adoption, our families had been so close that they kept spare clothes for each other’s children in their homes.
I didn’t believe myself to be someone who wore my heart on my sleeve, did I?
Yet Aunt Chinatsu had discerned my mood instantly.
Still, I was sorry; the truth might not be suitable for her ears, so I silently begged her forgiveness.
“Ah… I’m having some relationship issues with a classmate; I’ll do my best to handle them.”
I spoke vaguely.
Everyone played various roles; Hayato, of course, was also my classmate.
I truly didn’t want to lie to Aunt Chinatsu, who regarded me as family, but adolescence always brought with it certain matters difficult to confide in elders, didn’t it?
In the living room, Little Black Cat Lingling paced restlessly, at times leaping onto the sofa to survey his surroundings, at others standing atop the cabinet holding a vase, moving with effortless grace as if patrolling his domain.
Lingling seemed remarkably well-adjusted to the environment of an ordinary family, even managing to change the TV channel when Aunt Chinatsu wasn’t looking.
The screen now displayed a variety show, with several guests’ faces appearing in circular insets in the upper right corner.
Today’s topic: Who is your favorite Magical Girl?
“Hmm… Sakura Tsui, I suppose. Her pink attire is quite memorable; my daughter absolutely adores her outfit,” replied a woman, holding her child’s hand.
“Maihime! I love you, I love you!” shouted one of the middle school boys who, walking together, had just been targeted by the camera.
“Hane-chan, sniff, Hane-chan, sniff…” a male fan, whose shirt bore an image of a blonde Magical Girl, seemed to have just purchased a Magical Girl figurine from a store.
“If it’s convenient, could we see what you bought?” the host asked.
Subsequently, a blurry mosaic filled the screen.
The guests erupted in laughter.
This was not good; I used to watch such shows without any particular feeling, but now an inexplicable dread crept from my feet to the crown of my head.
The mere thought of countless boys confessing their love to me, the transformed Magical Girl, on the internet in the future…
It was utterly unacceptable!
“Indeed, you’ll encounter all sorts of things as you grow up, but whenever you face a problem, Ren, you can always talk to Auntie, you know.”
Whether it was merely my imagination or not, Aunt Chinatsu’s gaze seemed to subtly drift as she spoke, as if she were keenly observing something in the living room.
She must have been captivated by the TV program as well.
In a society plagued by frequent destruction from strange creatures, Magical Girls, as the sole defenders against them, were naturally a sensation.
Moreover, their undeniably adorable appearances only amplified their appeal.
Correspondingly, much like the ‘Unfortunate Measurement Plan’ (TL Note: A fictional program aimed at identifying strange creatures disguised among ordinary people.) which sought to uncover strange creatures hiding among ordinary people, some fervent Magical Girl fans were equally determined to learn the real-life identities of those who so spectacularly vanquished these threats.
Though many condemned such behavior, with the majority believing that Magical Girls’ private lives should remain undisturbed, beautiful existences inevitably drove people to obsession.
The louder the waves of condemnation, the more individuals joined the ranks of those intent on uncovering the true identities of Magical Girls.
Were it not for the perception-distorting field (TL Note: A magical effect that causes people to perceive Magical Girls in a distorted way, making it difficult to recognize their true identities.) granted to Magical Girls by the fairies, any newly born Magical Girl would likely have every piece of their personal information, from birth to the present, instantly unearthed.
“…”
‘Wait a minute, wouldn’t my situation be incredibly dire then?’
‘—That Magical Girl is a boy!’
If my true identity were ever revealed, I, Aoyama Ren, would face genuine social annihilation.
This was no laughing matter; it was an absolute truth.
No matter what, the other Magical Girls were all girls; even if the perception-distorting field were to fail one day, countless people would still rally to their defense, and they would be protected by official bodies due to their contributions to society.
I, as the anomaly among Magical Girls, would be utterly unable to prevent others from looking at me with strange eyes, no matter what.
Having experienced similar events, I have no doubt that public opinion, once it erupts, is like a mountain torrent or a tsunami, beyond any individual’s control.
Fortunately, only Hayato, Shiraishi Kisa, and Little Black Cat Lingling currently knew my identity—all people I could trust.
The problem is, setting aside Lingling, who is not entangled in human emotions, aren’t my, Hayato’s, and Shiraishi Kisa’s relationships currently extremely chaotic because of ‘my’ actions towards Hayato?
Why exactly did ‘I’ respond to Hayato at that time, and why did ‘I’ do that?
Aunt Chinatsu’s worry in her eyes became increasingly apparent, and I felt apologetic.
All this time, I had been trying not to trouble Uncle and Auntie, determined not to be as willful and self-indulgent as I was when I was a child.
“Ah, um… I will.”
I offered a smile, the result of much practice in front of the mirror.
It was the humble, respectful smile of a perfect student, one that no teacher could bear to scold.
“Ren, you’re becoming more and more like your mother.”
Unexpectedly, I heard Aunt Chinatsu make this observation.
I couldn’t quite grasp what she meant; adults always seem to hide something when they speak.
At Aunt Chinatsu’s call, Hayato came downstairs.
I also went to wake Uncle Watanabe, who opened his eyes blankly, seemingly just realizing he was home.
During dinner, Hayato and I implicitly avoided mentioning that incident.
Only occasionally, when our eyes met, would both of us instinctively look away.
As usual, but with a bit more liveliness, Uncle Watanabe congratulated Hayato and me on entering our second year of high school, and Aunt Chinatsu clapped her hands in celebration.
It was just the start of the school year; was such formality really necessary?
Yet, this kind of happiness was something I cherished too much.
Little Black Cat Lingling said he didn’t need to eat, but after washing the dishes, I still found a bottle of yogurt in the refrigerator for him.
“Thank you, Little Ren.”
He responded politely.
“Do you need me to tear open the seal for you?” I asked, looking at the little black cat’s paws.
“I have my ways. But it’s quite late now, isn’t it? Don’t you still need to talk to that boy named Watanabe?”
I knew; I was just procrastinating.
After showering, returning to my room, and finishing my homework, it was already nine in the evening.
Anyone who procrastinates knows exactly what they’re doing.
I was no exception.
I hadn’t even figured out how to start the conversation.
Mathematics, which I usually detested, today I completed as if divinely inspired for some reason.
‘Was I in a good mood?’
“Ren, may I come in?”
A knock sounded, and it was Hayato’s voice.
‘Eek!’
I stood up, startled.
“Y-you can…”
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