After school the next day, we had some time to ourselves. The calm before the storm that would come tomorrow.
I passed by the athletic fields on my way to the bikes, trying to count just how many lines I had crossed in the last half-month alone. In wartime, on a battlefield, I might’ve been called a hero for my recklessness, but unfortunately there was no war, and this was a high school. Making me just an idiot.
The sun was just about below the horizon. Most sports clubs were packing up and getting ready to go. I tried to find her among the runners.
Then my back hurt. A lot.
“Friggin’ ow!” I shouted. Yakishio, still in her workout clothes, patted my back again. Technically lighter. “Still hurts. Not practicing?”
“Cooling down. Headin’ home?”
“On my way to the bike lot to do just that.”
She started walking with me. No asking for approval. She just did. Her eyes flitted left and right, and she lowered her voice. “Yana-chan told me you guys are up to some insane stuff.”
“It’s not… I mean, it is insane.” I half scoffed at myself.
Yakishio’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Anything I can lend a hand with? I can be the muscle.”
“You can focus on track. Still going well?”
She flashed a toothy grin. “Yeah, you could say that. If I win the prefectural prelims this month, I go to regionals. If I win there—”
“You go to nationals.” She nodded enthusiastically. “Feeling confident?”
“More than ever. Wanna see my six-pack?”
“What? N-no. Stop flashing people.”
She cackled. I was feeling a little lighter myself. Honestly, things had been a little awkward between us for a while after our race. Didn’t know why. Or how things eventually went back to normal.
“You and the girls gotta come to one of my races,” she said. “It’ll knock your socks off.”
“I’ll be at the Tokai regionals. Interested in seeing the opener to nationals.”
“Not prefecturals?” Yakishio prodded me, pouting her lips a bit too exaggeratedly to be convincing.
I wiggled away and smirked. “Won’t be much of a race.”
“True.” She smirked back.
Normal. Maybe things hadn’t gone back to normal. In the same way no two summers were ever the same. And we were probably still a bit too wet behind the ears to really comprehend what that meant. What we’d lost. What we’d gained. But I was looking forward to the answer one day.
✦ ✦ ✦
Someone was getting married today. It was seven in the morning, and the sun was up bright and early, pouring its rays into the Kirinoki drama club room. On standby inside were me, Asagumo-san, the student council president, and two Shiratama-sans.
Two. One of them was Yanami in disguise. She wore a wig that matched the real one’s hair, and everything from makeup to uniform, all the way to her shoes, was perfectly mirrored—down to the most minute detail. Aside from the fact that the matter of volume was still an issue (they looked like a before-and-after shot standing next to each other), this was actually shaping up to be promising. You could only really notice the differences when you were looking for them. Even my personal biggest points of concern, those being the genre-splitting difference in chest and thigh size, had been miraculously taken care of.
I was impressed. Truly impressed.
Asagumo-san’s forehead beamed. “There we have it, folks. Nukumizu-san has proven an excellent test subject.”
“What? Huh?” Suddenly, all the girls were judging me.
“The first three places a man looks when faced with a woman are indeed the face, the chest, and the legs. In that order. So long as those areas are made to match, they’re practically the same person.”
“What?! You’re joking, right?!” The eyes. They hurt.
Asagumo-san unabatedly continued, “Women, however, will notice things like hair, makeup, and little details. To that end, she’ll be in her uniform, plain and simple. Hair and makeup have been done identically, and we’ve used blue as a strong accent color to draw the eye.”
Only then did I notice the blue pen in their breast pockets, their blue wrist watches, and their blue nails.
The president studied each of them. “That leaves the tricky issue of voice. Will Yanami-kun simply be avoiding conversation?”
“We’ve accounted for that. Yanami-san, if you would.”
She nodded, then pulled a blue mask up over her mouth. From it came the words, “Hello. I’m Shiratama Riko. Nice to meet you!”
And it was entirely Shiratama-san’s voice. Yanami enjoyed the shock that gave me. I could see her smug face even with that thing in the way.
Asagumo-san gestured to it. “I’ve inserted a thin piezoelectric speaker in the mask. She’ll be speaking with pre-recorded phrases as necessary. Rest assured, the quality is near lifelike. I spared no expense.”
“She did not,” Shiratama-san said gravely. “It was very expensive.”
“Yanami-san’s wig, too, is made from the hair of a young Asian woman of the same age group. A professional has styled it perfectly to Riko-san’s image.”
“It was very expensive.”
Some people had absolutely no concept of modesty. Asagumo-san was some people.
Yanami pulled a recorder from her pocket and started pushing buttons. “Occupied. I’m changing.” “I’m a little under the weather.” “Make that a large, please.” “Can you make the extra rice into onigiri, please?”
I could hear Yanami in a few of those, but they were all in Shiratama-san’s voice.
“We’re as ready for phase one as we can possibly be.” Asagumo-san’s face turned solemn. “That just leaves…”
The girls looked at me again. This worried me.
“Me and the president have to get in disguise now, right?” I asked. “You said you’d handle that part.”
“That’s right. As the only two who will be interfacing with Tanaka-sensei directly, we’ll have to take extra care with you.” Asagumo-san gave Yanami a look. She smiled in delight as she revealed the item she’d been hiding behind her back all this time: a black, extremely high-quality…skirt.
“Excuse me?”
There was no way, right? No way this was the part where they made me cross-dress. Just to get into a wedding venue?
No face covering could hide the sadistic delight on Yanami’s expression. “She’s one of my favorites, Nukumizu-kun. And she’s all yours today. Aren’t I the best?”
“Guys, please, can we be real for a sec?” I pleaded. “There’s no way this works. This is more risky. You realize that, right?”
Asagumo-san swiftly blocked my escape route. “But you proved my theory yourself, Nukumizu-san. Not even family is safe from the normalcy bias.”
“Okay, but doesn’t this mean the president’s going to have to dress up as a boy? She doesn’t want that, does she?”
President Houkobaru flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder. “I’m more than fine with the notion, actually.”
There went my lifeline.
Witnessing my utter despair, Asagumo-san comforted me with a smile. “Don’t worry. We’ve called in the best to do your makeup.”
“Huh? It’s not gonna be you?”
“Cross-dressing requires a particularly skilled hand. Meanwhile, Yanami-san and I have to get ready for phase one.”
A chill went down my spine just then. An icy wind blew. Shadows blotted out the hallway window. From the mysteriously ajar door, something gleamed. Something pale.
“Shikiya-senpai?!” I blurted.
“I heard we were…playing with Nukumizu-kun.”
Staggering and unsteady, my fate slithered into the room.