Chapter 24: The Price of Vinegar and a Sudden Kaijin

There is a saying that cuts to the core of human nature, summarizing it thus:

‘Wrapping a plate of dumplings just for the vinegar’ (TL Note: A Chinese idiom referring to making a large effort or doing extensive work for a small, specific preference or detail).

Many times, people behave in this manner, making drastic changes to the whole simply to cater to one small preference.

For instance, if one acquires a table they adore, they will then purchase furniture, arrange their bedroom layout, or even change the wall color to match the table’s shape and hue.

I suspect Shiraishi Kisa is no different.

She seemed particularly fond of my current hairstyle, insisting that I don a girl’s attire.

Though I remained utterly bewildered as to why the mere length of my hair dictated such a drastic measure.

When I attempted to decline, reasoning that I would be cutting my hair short by noon, Shiraishi Kisa met my words with vehement opposition.

“Aoyama Ren, a girl’s hair is her life! Such a thing simply cannot be allowed.”

“…”

‘Wait a moment, Shiraishi Kisa, in your eyes, who exactly am I?’

Undeniably, both Kobayashi and Shiraishi Kisa possessed a commendable aesthetic sense.

The black and white girl’s school uniform, with its standard sailor collar, was boldly adorned with a striking red bow.

This created a vivid focal point.

As for the skirt, it fell just above the knees.

Its length was comparable to a boy’s knee-length shorts.

The fabric itself appeared high-quality; even with such a simple design, it exuded an air of refined elegance.

Frankly, if I were to spot a girl wearing this uniform on the street, I would undoubtedly steal a few extra glances.

However, this did not mean I desired the same attire.

“I don’t think this needs emphasizing, but, Shiraishi Kisa, I am a boy!”

I vigorously shook my head.

Due to my lengthened hair, this simple motion generated a noticeably greater centrifugal force.

Such subtle changes could be so pronounced.

This felt entirely different from the sensation of transforming into a Magical Girl, as that form had not affected my internal state in the slightest.

These inexplicable changes I was experiencing now were likely also linked to magic.

Yet, I was utterly unable to comprehend what was truly happening, or whether these changes were merely temporary.

I inquired with Little Black Cat Lingling, the imp serving as the contracted Magical Girl, and the reply I received was that a period of more detailed observation was needed.

For the past two days, Lingling had apparently been diligently writing late into the night, drafting a report to be submitted to the Fairy Royal Court.

“Currently, the flow of vital energy within Ren shows no abnormalities, so there’s no need to worry excessively.”

After our conversation, the little black cat remarked.

I once read in a magazine about cases where individuals’ hair turned white overnight.

Reportedly, this was a result of hormonal imbalance in the body, occurring under conditions of extreme mental distress.

Since my body was without issue, there must have been some other cause preceding these changes.

I recalled last night’s dream, where six-year-old Aoyama Ren held my hand.

His manner of speaking, the very tone he used to demand things from others—

He remained as willful, as utterly unreasonable as ever.

He had never truly vanished from my heart.

This stubborn side of me now only surfaced occasionally, primarily when I was with Hayato.

‘Could my current predicament also be what ‘I’ desired?’

By now, I was utterly incapable of understanding my six-year-old self.

That version of me knew no fear, acknowledged no mistakes, and rejected everything I disliked.

Even now, I vividly remember the evening of my sixth birthday party, the first time my mother asked me to change into boy’s clothes, and how utterly heartbrokenly I cried.

A memory too painful to revisit.

On that day, my father, my mother, Uncle Watanabe, Aunt Chinatsu, and Hayato were all present.

I could only hope that Hayato wouldn’t recall these seemingly trivial experiences.

I had repeatedly asserted afterwards that I merely feared the sense of dread brought by change, and that I did not subjectively prefer things this way.

Yet, when Shiraishi Kisa awkwardly thrust a bag containing the girl’s uniform into my hands, I dazedly accepted it.

“Look, Aoyama Ren.”

Shiraishi Kisa opened a palm-sized compact mirror and held it before me.

It was likely for makeup, so its usual purpose didn’t involve observing one’s entire face.

Without the obstruction of my glasses, the image in the mirror scarcely resembled me.

Coupled with a completely different hairstyle from my usual, my long, slightly wavy hair now obscured both my ears.

“Wouldn’t it be such a pity if you didn’t try it on?”

“Come to think of it, I also saw you without your glasses in middle school, Aoyama Ren.”

Shiraishi Kisa said.

That’s right, Shiraishi Kisa had indeed mentioned that she was in the class next to mine during middle school.

“You left a very deep impression on me. It was then that I remembered Aoyama Ren, and also Watanabe Hayato.”

‘Is that so?’

That Shiraishi Kisa was closer to me than to others seemed to have a plausible explanation now.

I had only ever heard her address me with ‘kun’; for other boys, she always used their surname followed by ‘classmate’.

In my first year of high school, I had assumed Shiraishi Kisa treated everyone the same way.

As for why she addressed Hayato as “Watanabe-classmate,” like everyone else, it might have been due to youthful romantic feelings at play.

Over time, I had grown accustomed to Shiraishi Kisa’s unique way of addressing me.

“So, Shiraishi Kisa, what was your impression of me back then?”

Middle school me was far more troublesome than I was now.

“Let me think.”

Shiraishi Kisa crossed her arms over her chest, reminiscing as she spoke:

“Your eyes were like those of a dead rabbit.”

What a sharp analogy.

Shiraishi Kisa always had good grades in Japanese literature.

Therefore, her assessment was quite vivid.

“And Watanabe Hayato was like a fox.”

“Back then, you two were always inseparable.”

To clarify, I only attended school because of Hayato.

Therefore, this was a natural consequence.

However, such a reason, if spoken aloud, would be rather embarrassing.

I decided not to reveal this to Shiraishi Kisa.

I had heard that some people enjoyed recounting their embarrassing moments, exposing their base inner thoughts, to derive a peculiar thrill.

Alas, I was not that kind of person.

“In any case, all of this is for the manga club’s creative work, Aoyama Ren.”

“You just need to put on this outfit and then simply scare Watanabe Hayato a little.”

“Just like that kiss you shared with Watanabe Hayato that afternoon—Aoyama Ren, you really do enjoy pranks.”

Shiraishi Kisa said with her hands clasped behind her back, a smile playing on her lips.

‘Oh, so that’s it.’

‘In Shiraishi Kisa’s eyes, was that merely a prank between boys?’

Boys in middle school were like monkeys, capable of anything.

I felt a slight sense of relief.

A whistle for assembly sounded in the distance.

“So, we mustn’t miss this opportunity, Aoyama Ren.”

Shiraishi Kisa said meaningfully before leaving.

“…”

In my hand, I held the clothing bag Shiraishi Kisa had left behind.

‘I understood: to a normie (TL Note: A Japanese slang term, ‘jūshū,’ referring to a person who has a fulfilling real life, often used to imply someone popular or socially active), these were merely playful antics.’

‘On the internet, I occasionally saw normie games where friends pranked each other.’

‘So, Shiraishi Kisa wanted to witness such a scene.’

‘As a manga story, such a plot might actually be quite fitting.’

“Lingling.”

I suddenly said.

“What is it, Ren?”

The little black cat sat on a branch, looking down at me.

“This is Shiraishi Kisa’s idea, and it has nothing to do with me.”

I stared intently at it.

Important matters required repeated emphasis.

“Kisa is just that kind of child.”

The little black cat said in a childlike voice.

“Next week, when Shiori-chan and Otowa return, things will become lively again.”

Come to think of it, for the past two days, they had posted many travel photos in the “Magical Girl Part-Time Agency” (TL Note: The name of a chat group) group chat.

But there were no selfies of themselves.

Therefore, I had no way of judging what kind of people they were.

Worries piled up, one after another.

Where exactly did the problem lie? Was there no good, permanent solution?

Did I really have to wear this outfit for the manga club’s material gathering?

No matter what, these were Shiraishi Kisa’s earnest intentions.

Yes, merely for this reason.

I gazed into the distance at the activities of Class 2-1.

That Hayato was chatting with girls again.

If I were to change into this uniform right now, then take his hand and leave—

Perhaps we could make the front page of the school news.

Aoyama Ren was officially absent, and he was, after all, a boy.

My identity wouldn’t be discovered, but would this truly not cause Hayato any trouble?

“Ren!”

Lingling suddenly leaped onto my head.

“A Class C Kaijin (TL Note: ‘Kaijin’ or ‘Monster’, a term referring to a monstrous or superpowered being, often classified by threat level) is rapidly approaching the school.”

“But its aura feels terribly wrong, like… a thrown bomb!”

Before the words had fully left its mouth, I heard a colossal roar, like that of a jet engine, growing closer and closer.

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