Kobayashi Mae

I’m kinda like you. Talking to someone else who was queer, those words had just slipped out. Mae felt ten times more real than Kanai’s bisexuality; in front of me, shyly looking up at me from under her eyelashes, a little pretty but more like average, no bright hair color or oddly toned eyes—brown eyes, black hair and warm, real, skin; hair clamp adorned with a soft velvet bow, little earrings sparkling. I could have met her in the real world.

Looking for a private space, we awkwardly headed towards the bathrooms, then realized simultaneously that we were opposite genders. Mae giggled again.

“It’s lunch, so the science lab is probably empty,” I suggested. “Where is it, again…?”

“It’s down that hall. You don’t remember?”

“No…well, that’s part of what I’ll probably talk about.”

“…Huh?”

Yeah, that didn’t make much sense, did it.

Cold spring light filtered in through the science lab’s floor-ceiling windows, making the beakers set out on the tables glint and sparkle. The overhead florescents were off, leaving everything else dim and dull. Like I’d guessed, the room was empty. I sat down in one of the chairs. Mae leaned on the table across from me.

“So, what did you mean? …You like a guy?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “I do.”

“…Well, he probably likes you too.” Mae smiled at me. “Want my help getting you together?”

“You don’t have to act happy,” I said. “Aren’t you upset? I slept with you, and now I’m leaving you.”

Mae looked away. Her voice was strained: “Well, I guess it doesn’t bother me that much.”

“You can be real with me too,” I said. “I’m really, truly sorry. I mean—I would never have done that if it was actually me.”

She looked back at me. She wasn’t quite crying, but her eyes were wet and glossy. “I, sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Don’t tell anyone this. And I’m not crazy.” So far, the system window wasn’t popping up. It hadn’t told me any built-in consequences for this, and this was the best way to make things right in a clear way with Mae.

“I won’t tell anyone, whatever it is. I guess I’ll judge if you’re crazy myself, haha.”

“Do you know isekais? The genre?”

“Yeah, of course. My dad really likes anime. Lately he’s into…what was it…Konosuba.”

“Is he the one who moved to Japan?”

“Yeah. But what were you saying?”

I was pretty curious about her family, but I had to stay on topic. Ugh, it was such an awful topic to explain, though! “Well, it’s like I’m in an isekai. I was playing a video game. Then I tripped and fell on the stairs. The next thing I knew, I woke up in Miyazato Ryoya’s body.”

Mae stared at me. “So you’re not him?”

I scratched at my face. “I know I don’t have proof.”

“What happened to him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he dead? Gone?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. He might be in my old body, or something.” But in the BL isekai I read, at least, the person whose body was taken was dead.

Mae shook her head, a weird smile on her face—not forced like earlier, but wobbly and awkward. “This is such a random lie.” She pulled up a chair and collapsed onto it. “Or, well, I don’t feel like Miyazato-senpai would ever make up that lie, so it has to be someone different talking to me right now. When did you—when did this start?”

“Only on Friday.”

Mae hmmed, biting her lip. “That…that seems right. You’ve been acting kind of weird since then.” She interlaced her fingers. “But why tell me?”

Because you’re a friendly face? “Because it affects you, and you can help me. That’s—who I am—is…” I hesitated, thinking of what to say. “Is why I want the fan club disbanded.”

“I’m just the secretary.”

“You’re a founding member, right? Please—because of my circumstances, right now, there’s no way I can have a romantic relationship with any of you—”

“—We don’t need a romantic relationship with you—”

“—it just feels uncomfortable, and I don’t like it.”

“…it’s not like the fan club runs around what you like…”

“Then it’s just harassment.”

Mae shrugged. “I guess.”

“I said I was like you because I don’t like people like you.” Shit. That was such a weird way to phrase that. “I mean, women. Girls. I’m gay.”

Mae laughed and shook her head again.

“Not only that,” I complained, “but I liked Ryoya.”

“Yeesh.”

“And I have this weird isekai system pushing me into this mission to romance Chihara Yuu.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, it’s like—status window?” It popped up. Mae didn’t look at it, but she watched my face intently, tracking my eye movements as I read off it. “‘Gain the heroine’s affections. Failure or stalling will be punished,’.”

Mae frowned. “Are you going to do it?”

“Sure! I don’t want to be punished.”

“But what about her? It’s not fair to her, right?”

“You know I know that!” I snapped. She was attacking me about this, when I’d already considered it over and over. “I have to do what I have to do, I don’t know what could happen to me, and there’s no way I can live any way else.”

Mae sighed. “Miyazato-senpai—what’s your name?”

“Matsuda. Matsuda Rin.”

“Matsuda-senpai—”

“I was in your grade.”

“Matsuda-kun—”

“Wait, but it was mid-December of my second year, so I was pretty close to graduating, and you’ve just started.”

“Whoever you are! I thought you were nice.”

I stared at her. “I am nice.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

I reached out a hand to her. She pushed her chair away from me with a screech and stood up.

The school bell chimed.

“Sorry. I have to go. Bye.” She left, closing the door behind her.

I sat there at a loss. A couple baby-faced first years came in after her, one of them glancing back at her curiously. One of them came over to where I was sitting and stood there in silence.

“Oh, is this your chair? Sorry.” I got up in haste, almost falling over, and laughed awkwardly. “Sorry, I guess we were just hanging out here.”

The first-year student sat down.

“Hey,” another one, a girl, murmured to her friend. “Isn’t that Miyazato Ryoya? He’s so hot.”

Ugh.

I left the lab, debating whether I should go back to my classroom or not. I hadn’t had lunch, and my stomach was tugging at the edges of my consciousness. No way I was going to go to that café, though.

I ended up walking down to the train station where I went back and forth from school. There was a little ramen restaurant there that only seated a few people.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” the shopkeeper asked, eyeing my uniform.

“Nah. Shoyo ramen, please.”

➽──────❥ ❀⊱༺♡༻⊰❀ ➽──────❥

I went back to class after that, though I didn’t want to, and then I had to go to work. My plan was just to be as nice as possible to Yuu. It didn’t matter my true feelings, as long as she didn’t come out of it harmed, and Kobayashi Mae could suck it because she didn’t know what she was talking about.

But when I walked in, bell at the door ringing like a burglar alarm (I might have slammed the door open with a bit too much force), Yuu wasn’t there. The owner was at the counter, and said with a bright smile, “Miyazato-kun! Thank goodness, you’re here!”

“What’s up?” I asked warily.

“Yuu’s sick today. She couldn’t come in. Can you get started working now?”

“Give me like, five seconds.” I took out my phone and dashed off a quick text.

You: Heard you were sick :( You live alone, right? I’ll come by and look after you after work, if you’re willing to send me your address.

I knew her address from the map minigames, but it’d be weird and stalker-ish to show up with no good reason for why I knew where she lived. The text only showed as delivered, not read. She was probably asleep or resting.

“Okay, thank you,” I told the owner, heading to the back room to wash my hands and change into my work clothes—there was no assigned uniform, but I’d brought Ryoya’s nice brown pants, his least flashy shirt (which still had a pattern of pink and red on the cuffs and collar), and then there was the cafe-issue koi apron, which came in pink, green, and blue. Yuu had switched to green lately. I put on the blue one because that felt vaguely heterosexual, then looked in the mirror and discovered I looked like the transgender flag.

I would really like just one win sometime.

I worked hard for the rest of the afternoon. Even though I knew how to make drinks now, the chaos of answering at the register, taking money, and then hurrying to make the drink was jumbled and confusing. I gave at least two people the wrong coffee before the owner came out to help again, putting me at the register. Just taking orders was much easier, methodical and relaxing. I smiled kindly at the customers, and about half of them blushed and giggled.

In that flow, I got a popup at the edge of my vision. +1 Love Point. It took about an hour more for my phone to buzz. After work, I checked it and found that she had sent me her address, with no other commentary.

As I was leaving, Mae walked in. She stared at me, face twisted in—what was that expression? Regret? Anger? Confusion? It could even have been embarrassment, shoulders tucked up and a slight blush coloring her face, but that grimace was anything but Love. It was much more annoying than a visual-novel dating sim, where all the characters would have six or so basic emotions to scroll through.

I didn’t know why she was there. I nodded at her awkwardly. She looked away, smoothing out her expression.

“The café’s closed,” the owner told her. “We were just about to lock up.”

“…Oh. Sorry. Is Chihara Yuu here?”

“No, she’s sick today. Want me to pass on a message?”

Mae glanced back at me. “N—no, that’s okay. I’ll come back later.”

➽──────❥ ❀⊱༺♡༻⊰❀ ➽──────❥

It had never been Ryoya’s fault. But she remembered being perched on his bed, anxious and sick to her stomach with what she thought were butterflies, their little insect feet digging at her insides. His sheets were silk and slippery against her bare knees as she worked at the buttons of her uniform vest, the flower embroidered on the pocket still the little cherry-blossom that symbolized a first year. Ryoya looked up at her, eyes dark and cold. His mouth was that indifferent shape it wore so frequently.

His shirt was off, slick, tanned pecs and abs right in front of her, making her face go red, her throat go dry, her hands shaking and her groin hot. Mae managed to get hers off. She was wearing a black lacey bra she’d specially picked out for the occasion, and glanced at him, trying to see if his expression had changed. It hadn’t really, but he put a hand on her waist and pulled her closer.

Above them, leaning against the wall, was a half-finished painting of a teenage girl, draped in the shadows of the dim light. Larger than life, looking down on them. It was pretty good, artistically. Mae tried to ignore it.

Matsuda Rin wasn’t indifferent at all. She didn’t think he could be indifferent if he tried. But she didn’t want to see another girl, trapped beneath the idealized image of someone else, in that bedroom.