It's Saturday today. I was strolling through the usual shopping street by the station, not doing much, just zoning out.
Last night, I crashed at Ms. Fuyuhara's place. We got up late, ate lunch together around noon, and she dropped me off nearby before I wandered here. Oh, why am I in my black school uniform on a weekend? Blame Ms. Fuyuhara—she wanted some uniform play last night. The teacher who once fretted about guilt is now living her best life as a full-on sex enthusiast.
I've been showering at her place a lot, so I keep spare underwear there, but I should've brought casual clothes too. A school uniform sticks out like crazy in the holiday crowd.
"Hmm, what now?" I muttered, checking the time. Just past two p.m.—too awkward for most plans, but I didn't have any ideas anyway. Hoping for a dramatic reunion with that weirdo from the other night? No chance in broad daylight. Going back to my apartment would just bore me, and dropping by Natsuki's shop every day feels like I'd be a pest.
"In my old life, I'd hang with Yamada on days off," I sighed. You don't know what you've got till it's gone. Lost a good guy there—well, technically, I'm the one who died.
So here I was, drifting from shop to shop with no real goal. It's surprisingly fun, though. Why? Take this random store I ducked into, for example. Behind me, near the stuffed animal shelves, two girls about Saki's age were peeking my way.
"Look, he's super hot," one whispered.
"Wow, that guy's gorgeous," the other added, thinking I didn't hear.
They probably thought they were sneaky, but you can feel eyes on you if you pay attention. I glanced back casually, flashed a quick smile when they froze, and—boom—they squealed and scurried off, giggling. Happens all the time. How could this not be fun?
This world makes you feel alive just walking around—always the star of your own show. Gotta give the audience a little something, right? All thanks to that shady goddess. Today's gratitude is due: Hey, mean ol' deity, thanks again. I'm thriving.
"Man, I'm kinda hungry," I said to myself. Lunch at Ms. Fuyuhara's was hours ago, and walking wore me out. I spotted a nearby café and decided to grab something light.
"…Oh, this place," I realized as I stepped in. It looked familiar—the spot where Natsuki put me in twin-tails for a meetup way back. Nostalgic vibes hit hard. That was my first taste of outdoor play. Haven't done it since, though. Too risky if someone spots you, plus the cleanup's a hassle. Learned my lesson: flashing or fooling around outside takes way more prep than I thought.
I was mulling that over when trouble stirred at the café. I ordered a café au lait and a fruit sandwich at the counter, picked up my tray, and looked for a seat. "Thought it'd be emptier this time of day," I grumbled. The place was packed, mostly with young women. Tray in hand, I wandered, searching for a spot.
"Hey, big brother, you alone?" a voice called out, way too casual.
"Wanna join us?" another chimed in.
I turned. Two women, maybe mid-thirties, lounged at a four-person booth, grinning at me. Bleached blonde hair, heavy makeup, acting all high and mighty to seem bigger than they were. Not my type at all—guys or girls, I steer clear of people like this. In my old life, they'd be sleazy old dudes hitting on you.
They're in my age range, sure, but even if they were twenty, this tacky vibe's a hard pass. "No thanks," I said politely, despite their rude tone.
"Come on, don't be like that," one pushed.
"Just for a bit, what's the harm?" the other added.
I tried to walk past, but one grabbed my sleeve. My hands were full with the tray, so I froze to avoid spilling my drink. Then the other stood, slid an arm around my waist, and tried to nudge me into the booth's back seat. Classic trap—once you're boxed in, good luck getting out. I know that trick from pushy recruiters.
I'm a wimp at heart, but against women, I'm not worried about strength. Normally, I hold back—past-life habits scream be gentle, don't hurt them. But this? They're crossing lines. In this world, pushing back physically would probably slide.
I pictured it: dump my tray—coffee and sandwich—on the seated one, then trip the other grabbing my ass, let her eat floor. Just as I tensed up, someone yanked me backward hard.
"Whoa!" I caught the tray just in time to save it. My back hit a solid arm that steadied me. Another pushy lady? I spun around—and froze.