Chapter 22: A Dream of Transformation and a Shocking Revelation

Last night, nothing noteworthy transpired.

After Watanabe Hayato and I finished watching the anime, we each settled down to sleep.

I was on the floor, while he was in his bed.

This arrangement was only natural, considering I was in Hayato’s room.

Tossing and turning, I found myself in a bedroom illuminated solely by the faint glow of the air conditioner.

The thermostat read 24 degrees Celsius.

As my eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, I began to discern more of my surroundings.

Hayato lay on the side closer to the wall, and I couldn’t tell if he had fallen asleep.

Though I had claimed to be upset earlier, upon encountering such captivating content, I couldn’t resist dragging the progress bar back to the beginning, then pulling Hayato, who had been engrossed in his game alone, over to join me.

We watched it all over again.

And so, despite the presence of a much larger desktop monitor, we both found ourselves fixated on a small phone screen.

Lelouch was an imperial princess with a younger sister, sent in her youth to live in another country as a “diplomatic symbol.”

She had a childhood friend named Zhuoque, the son of that country’s ruler.

However, due to internal royal strife, Lelouch’s mother was murdered.

Soon after, the Empire launched invasions against other nations, including Zhuoque’s homeland.

Though a princess of the Empire, Lelouch, having witnessed everything, yearned to overthrow this decaying world.

At sixteen, Lelouch was exiled after a bitter rupture with her father.

She and her sister returned to the country where they had spent their childhood, living as ordinary students.

Only, this place had since become an occupied territory of the Empire.

One day, by a twist of fate, Lelouch received aid from a fairy imprisoned by the Empire.

From then on, she acquired the power of a Magical Girl, capable of distorting perception…

Lelouch then discovered that, for reasons unknown, her best childhood friend, the son of the former ruler of this country—Zhuoque—had joined the imperial army.

“Hayato, this anime is absolutely incredible!”

I exclaimed, my voice brimming with excitement.

It was truly worthy of a production team lauded as the “National Team” (TL Note: A common term in Chinese fandom for animation studios that consistently produce high-quality, acclaimed works, implying they represent the best of the country’s animation industry.), an original project of undeniable caliber.

Hayato, too, watched with intense concentration; his current expression clearly showed he was genuinely captivated by the anime.

“Indeed,” he agreed, “the subsequent plot developments are truly something to anticipate.”

Hayato concurred.

“Which part are you most interested in, Hayato? Is it Lelouch’s transformation sequence?”

I couldn’t help but replay that particular scene, where her magnificent form perfectly complemented her identity as an imperial princess.

“The animation truly is exceptional,” he admitted, “but I’m probably more curious about what will happen between Lelouch and Zhuoque later on.”

He had a point.

This dramatic design of character positions was a signature touch of that particular screenwriter.

It instantly heightened the sense of anticipation.

When discussing anime, I could speak endlessly, while Hayato listened attentively by my side.

As a listener, he was, without a doubt, the ideal choice.

He never contradicted my core arguments, yet he possessed the uncanny ability to pinpoint the most fundamental aspects with piercing insight.

This, I thought, must be what it means to have a best friend.

I felt incredibly happy during those moments.

Although the atmosphere had been somewhat unpleasant earlier, Hayato’s demeanor suggested he hadn’t taken it to heart.

As for my own displeasure, it had already been washed away by the joy of seeing a beloved work.

My irritation had been baseless to begin with; I truly couldn’t find a reason for my anger.

I just wondered what kind of girl Hayato actually liked.

And Hayato, surprisingly, had managed to keep it such a tight secret that even a constant shadow like me hadn’t noticed.

It seemed I had completely underestimated him.

I wondered if those few files he had deleted from his computer were somehow connected to this.

My mind drifted, mulling over various disjointed thoughts, as my eyelids grew increasingly heavy.

Come to think of it, Hayato hadn’t seemed to mind my moving into his bedroom to sleep without prior notice.

After finishing my homework, I gathered a mattress, blanket, and pillow, then pushed open the door to Hayato’s bedroom.

At that moment, Hayato was engrossed in a Sudoku puzzle, marking entries with a pen, and he merely glanced up at me.

“Ren, are you sleeping here tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.”

That was the extent of our conversation regarding the matter.

The time that followed involved me taking a shower, returning to Hayato’s room, and then discreetly browsing his computer’s bookmarks.

Just before my consciousness succumbed to sleep, I caught sight of a pair of brown cat eyes on the windowsill.

It was Little Black Cat Lingling, almost entirely camouflaged by the night.

It seemed to utter something to me, though I failed to catch its words clearly.

Cats are nocturnal creatures, and according to Lingling, fairies don’t require sleep either.

Typically, fairies utilize the hours when humans sleep to complete their reporting duties as Magical Girl contractors.

Did Lingling write with a pen, then? Or did the fairy realm possess something akin to a keyboard?

I pictured two tiny cat paws dancing across a keyboard in the dead of night.

It evoked a rather peculiar image of an overworked office worker (TL Note: ‘Shachiku’ is a Japanese slang term referring to a corporate s*ave; someone who works excessively long hours for their company.).

In any case, knowing Lingling was watching over me in the dead of night brought a significant measure of reassurance.

Should any crisis arise in my slumber, I knew it would immediately rouse me.

“Goodnight, Little Ren.”

The little black cat settled beside me and spoke those words.

Hayato’s breathing, too, gradually deepened into a slow, even rhythm.

Embracing the tranquil atmosphere, I ceased my aimless musings.

The transformation device on my right wrist caused me little discomfort.

Lying on my side, I rested the bracelet upon my pillow.

In the moonlight, the ruby gleamed as if a drop of crimson light had fallen into rippling water.

Before I awoke, I dreamt a dream of my childhood.

Six-year-old Aoyama Ren pulled me, running ceaselessly.

I stumbled along behind him, struggling to keep pace with the boundless energy of a child.

Yet, at the end of the road, a monstrous being, larger than any corporate skyscraper, roared to the heavens.

Hayato stood atop a crumbling edifice, seemingly poised to plunge from the great height at any moment due to the monster’s destructive rampage.

Filled with worry, I desperately wanted to rush forward, but “Aoyama Ren” tugged at my sleeve.

“That’s Hayato! He’s about to fall and be smashed to a pulp!”

I cried out to “Aoyama Ren” in a panic.

“Then aren’t you going to transform?”

The child named “Aoyama Ren” gazed at me.

“Transform?”

I didn’t understand what he was talking about.

How could “Aoyama Ren” know something that I didn’t?

We were, after all, the same person.

“You have to become a Magical Girl,” the child stated earnestly.

I rubbed my eyes, taking in the sight of the exquisitely cute little figure before me, who was even wearing a dress.

This was all a reflection of my mother’s aesthetic, utterly unrelated to me.

“But I’m a boy—if I don’t go now, Hayato will really get hurt.”

I turned my head, watching as the berserk monster’s every swing shattered glass and exposed vast cross-sections of reinforced concrete.

“But to save Hayato, you *must* become a Magical Girl.”

“Aoyama Ren” said, placing a silver bracelet inlaid with a ruby into my palm.

“…”

Delicate yet intricate patterns were engraved upon the fine chain.

“Why hesitate? What do you have left, besides Hayato?”

The six-year-old child spoke, his voice unnervingly profound.

“You care about him more than anyone.

You want to destroy this world more than anyone.”

“You’ve indulged your whims so many times; why bother caring about one more?”

Indeed.

There was no reason to hesitate, no reason to refuse.

I saw it then: in this crumbling world, a crimson scythe cleaved the monster into countless fragments.

Using the airborne debris as stepping stones, I vaulted into the sky, catching Hayato as he plummeted under gravity’s pull.

“Ren, you’re so cool!”

Hayato, nestled in my arms, looked up at me with starry eyes, speaking in adoration.

‘Strange,’ I thought. ‘Is Hayato truly the type to act like this?’

The instant my toes touched the ground, a barrage of camera flashes erupted, blinding me completely—

blinding me completely—

“Ren, it’s morning.”

It was just the sun, I realized.

I struggled to sit upright.

Hayato typically woke around the same time as me, as he ran every morning, come rain or shine, to exercise.

Likely due to his basketball club activities, he required a fit and healthy physique.

I, on the other hand, simply wished to proactively contribute to the Watanabe household chores, thus needing to wake at this hour to prepare lunch bentos and breakfast.

Yet, as I threw off my blanket, why was Hayato staring at me with such a surprised expression?

I was utterly bewildered.

Little Black Cat Lingling stood at the foot of the bedding, fixing me with a similarly bewildered gaze.

“Little Ren, your hair.”

‘Is my hair too messy?’ I wondered.

My sleeping posture was never ideal, so perhaps it had been flattened while I slept.

I reached up, intending to smooth down the unruly cowlick sticking up from the crown of my head.

However, for some inexplicable reason, a long strand of hair fell into my peripheral vision.

My head felt heavier than usual.

‘…?”

In the early morning, my brain had yet to fully boot up.

For a moment, I couldn’t comprehend where this long hair, swaying with every shake of my head, had come from.

Fumbling beside my pillow for my phone, I activated the front-facing camera.

‘Was I still dreaming?’

‘How had my hair grown so long, cascading all the way to my shoulders?’

“Ren?”

Hayato’s voice made me instinctively look over, my expression utterly bewildered.

“Yes.”

I replied.

‘Was this some kind of ‘Inception’-esque dream-within-a-dream scenario?’

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