Love-Bombing Mamoru

Move and I’ll kill you. Talk back and I’ll kill you.

My sister always said these words as she applied eyeliner around my eye as if it were a rule.

She lowered her husky voice to the brink, reminiscent of sharp shards of glass.

Her fierce nature was evident as she narrowed her slightly upturned eyes, making deep furrows between her brows.

That's why today, as always, her words carried extra weight.

Respond.

Hearing Rin's command, it felt like invisible hands clutched my body, robbing me of any will to resist.

Okay.

Rin slightly raised the corners of her mouth as I nodded.

And then . . . she gently rubbed the tip of the eyeliner against my eyelid.

I'll make you look extra cute today. Aren't you the lucky one?

I didn't feel lucky at all. But all I could do was nod.

People often misunderstood, but I didn’t enjoy dressing up as a girl. To be precise, I struggled with any attire that further emphasized the lack of masculinity evident in my face and body.

Dressing up as a girl only highlighted my flaws. There's no way I could be happy about it.

Of course, Rin knew this. She forced me despite knowing it.

She probably saw me as nothing more than her dress-up doll.

I hate it.

Good.

While I was lost in thought, she had created the illusion of my eyes being puffy and applied false eyelashes.

She's obviously skilled at this. Well, she has been dressing me up for years, so it's only natural.

Now for the wig, let's see . . .

She took a long black wig from the dining room table and placed it on my head. The hair was neatly tied back with a net.

I was already dressed in a flamboyantly gothic-style dress, adorned with tiny belts and studs, cinched tightly around the waist—it was quite flashy.

The dark black eyeshadow must have also been due to her desire to finish the look in a morbid style.

As I cautiously glanced at the mirror on the wall . . . I immediately regretted that decision. A sickly goth girl sat on the chair, far beyond what I had imagined. I kept telling myself that that was not me.

At the edge of the mirror, I could also see Mom sitting at the dining table, watching TV, her eyes averted from us as usual. A muddy feeling welled up inside me at the sight of her.

These people . . .

Don't you just look adorable!

Hearing that voice, I turned my gaze back to Rin. She smiled at me tenderly.

Now to add the finishing touches.

Rin gently lifted my chin with her fingertips as she pulled out a deep purple lipstick.

My lips were slowly, almost toxically, stained. It might sound exaggerated, but as the lipstick crawled over my lips, it felt as though my very being was being erased. It was a disturbing thought.

Aah, ah, aaaahhh . . .

With a feverish, dazed expression, Rin let out an unintelligible sound.

She was so focused on her task that her mouth hung half open. Her lukewarm breath dampened my face.

Done. Oh, wow. I can't believe how cute you look today . . . !

The tip of the lipstick finally left my lips.

Rin's eyes were slightly moist. Whether it was from excitement or emotion, she was clearly overwhelmed.

As I coldly watched her, she suddenly embraced me, using her body like a blanket.

Mamoru, I love you. So much.

She whispered those words in my ear but I didn't respond.

I didn't want to.

I pushed away all the stimuli—like the scent of her shampoo or that soft feeling pressing through her clothes— to clear my mind, and thought of somewhere else, anywhere but here.

If only Mamoru had been a girl.

Rin never said she wanted a sister. She always wished that I were a girl.

I've never deeply thought about the meaning behind that difference.

She hugged me even tighter. Her slender, long fingers dug into my shoulders, spreading a dull pain.

Ouch!

My groan was ignored.

It's such a shame that you were born a boy.

A shame, huh?

As she clung to me, I suppressed my emotions for a while, until Rin reluctantly let go.

We've got to take a picture.

She pulled out her smartphone.

Smile for me?

At her command, I smiled awkwardly, mechanically.

The flash filled my vision.

With a snap, my image was captured and displayed on Rin's smartphone.

It wasn't just one picture. She kept giving instructions to change my gaze and pose.

I complied with her demands, one after another.

The flashing didn't stop. Her photo roll was filled with images in short order.

With each demand I met, Rin seemed increasingly satisfied, and embarrassingly, that brought me a sense of relief . . .

Eventually, the blinding light ceased.

Hmm. That should be good enough.

The dazed look on Rin's face returned to normal.

I'll send the good ones. Post them, okay?

Rin used her smartphone. Shortly after, my phone on the dining table vibrated.

The table rattled with the force, creating an annoying sound.

From the sofa in the living room, just a few feet from the dining table, Mom turned her attention from the TV. With an annoyed frown, she glared at my phone.

But, as usual, she said nothing and quickly turned her back on us, refocusing on the television.

I couldn't help but direct a resentful gaze at Mom. I knew it was pointless.

Swallowing a sigh, I shifted my mood and reached for my phone.

Through the app, Rin had sent several images. They were freshly taken photos of me in a dress. No matter which one I looked at, I only saw a strange girl dressed in a punk dress.

You're naturally good-looking, so I barely added any light, no editing needed.

As I looked at the images with a melancholic mood, I felt a touch on my cheek.

Rin's fingers, trailing across my skin, felt as hot as burning embers.

Even though it wasn’t possible, it felt as if the places she touched were melting away, which was a bit frightening.

You really do look just like a girl . . . You like me, don't you?

Her gaze was intense and imposing.

Before I could even think, I found myself nodding silently.

Rin's cheeks relaxed into a satisfied smile, and the pressure seemed to lift. In that moment, I was engulfed by a wave of revulsion.

It was pathetic how automatically I obeyed Rin, and even more so, how I had grown accustomed to my own spinelessness.

But there was nothing I could do about it.

Tearing my gaze from Rin, I dropped my eyes to my smartphone and robotically opened a social media app. I typed a comment Rin would like and posted it with a photo of me cross-dressing.

Today’s look has a cute-but-deadly girl vibe. Don’t you think it’s pretty good?

Despite having typed it myself, I found it disgusting.

This account was originally for my personal use. Naturally, it was connected to a few real-life friends. The thought of them seeing these posts always makes me wish I could disappear.

Yet for some reason, Rin is obsessed with me spreading these photos of myself cross-dressing, and no matter how much I beg, she absolutely refuses to let it go.

I really do wonder, what does she want from this?

Oh, that was quick. Think it'll go viral?

Seated at the dining table, Rin murmured while checking my post on her smartphone.

Ever since I started uploading photos of me cross-dressing, my account's followers have skyrocketed.

About a year ago, a cosplay photo of a certain anime unexpectedly went viral, which boosted my visibility, and I’ve been consistently posting similar images ever since. Before I knew it, the number of followers had grown beyond my control.

Now, posting what Rin called 'cute photos' would instantly spread them to thousands, if not tens of thousands of people.

That fact is terrifying beyond words.

Here come the gross takes. These people! Can’t keep their dirty thoughts to themselves as they ogle Mamoru. Then again, it’s only natural a girl this pretty would turn on a bunch of idiots.

Since I've turned off app notifications, I don’t know how widely that post is spreading. But watching Rin, who looked like a child boasting about a special toy, I could pretty much guess.

I keep telling myself I know nothing.

I didn’t want to feel anything.

I placed my smartphone on the dining table and turned to watch the TV in the living room to distract myself.

At this distance, the screen looked tiny. A miniscule comedian played host to ant-sized celebrities in a light-hearted morning show. Every Sunday, my mom watched this show while Rin dressed me up in women’s clothes. She never said a word. Never scolded my sister for subjecting me to this torment.

It was as if she didn’t want to provoke Rin in any way.

Thanks to that, I've lost all hope of expecting anything from my mom.

A feature was being aired on the program, centering around a farewell press conference held by a recently disbanded female idol group; their leader responding carefully to questions.

By the way, it seems like Kyoko is coming back here.

As I idly watched the TV, Mom suddenly spoke up.

She was still facing away from us, making it sound almost like she was talking to herself.

She's retired from the entertainment industry and is taking a break from university to stay at her grandma's house for a while.

A tall woman looked out of the TV. The group’s leader.

Her black hair reflected the lights. She had a slender yet curvaceous figure and, above all, a composed and intelligent look. She was a top idol at the peak of her popularity.

Kyoko Yoigamine.

But to me, she was not some grand idol.

She was a much closer presence, a kind and caring older cousin.

That's how I've always known her.

Seeing Kyoko raised my spirits a bit. It felt like I was being saved.

Even in a situation like this, that feeling doesn’t change.

She worked so hard over there and even made some headway. What a waste.

The group disbanded because of a scandal caused by other members.

It wasn't just the media reports; hearing directly from Kyoko, it was clear she was unjustly implicated. Indeed, both online and in the news, there's been nothing but sympathy for Kyoko and the members who were unfairly involved.

Outwardly, Kyoko appeared strong during the press conference . . . But inwardly, she must have been feeling rough.

Really? Must be tough for her.

But I pretended not to know anything.

Because I couldn't let Rin know that I was in touch with Kyoko.

Glancing sideways at Rin, her mood had, as expected, shifted from cheerful to distorted.

That woman . . . She’s coming back here? Huh? Why?

Rin glared at the TV.

She disliked Kyoko. So whenever she heard anything about her, she quickly became irritable.

I kept my breath held to avoid attracting Rin's attention.

Rin.

Finally, our mother turned around to look at us . . . At Rin.

But the distance between them remained, split by the threshold dividing the living and dining rooms.

Neither made a move.

Kyoko had a rough time in Tokyo, and she wants to come home to relax and recover. Plus, grandma's living alone, right? Even though we live nearby, it's still better if she has someone with her, isn't it?

Her cautious tone was an attempt to soothe Rin.

What'd you say?!

Rin couldn't contain her irritation, and aimed it squarely at our mother.

Grandma is still competent, and we don't need her. Can't you just do something. Tell her to go back to Tokyo? Auntie's there, too. There's no need for her to come here, right?

Don't say such things, please?

Mom took a breath before continuing in a calmer tone.

Listen, you're going to university next year. You should act a bit more grown-up and maybe try to get along with her as family? Kyoko also wants to visit us after such a long time . . .

What? No, seriously, no way. Tell her if she steps over our threshold, I'll kill her.

Kill her? Don’t say such violent things . . .

You know what, I’ve decided the next time I see her face, it'll be in her funeral portrait. Sure, mom, if you want to see that woman, go ahead, but keep her away from Mamoru and me forever. I really hate her . . . Ugh, why can't you understand such a simple thing! Just thinking about her makes my skin crawl!

Rin stood up, her shoulders squared, and strode over to where our mother was. She snatched the TV remote from the low table in front of the couch and changed the channel.

Then, spinning on her heels, she returned to the dining table. She pulled out her chair with a kick, then plopped down roughly. She thumped her cheek on her hand and tapped the table repeatedly with her fingers, clicking her tongue all the while.

What a clear display of frustration. She was obviously very upset.

Being near Rin when she's in a foul mood makes my stomach churn. I just want to disappear from this place.

Alright, I'm sorry. I’ll pass the message to Kyoko in a subtle way.

Mom let out a soft sigh and turned her gaze back to the TV.

She fell silent from then on. It was as if she had drawn a line, deciding not to argue this point any further.

As a response to her daughter, it seemed hardly the right thing to do.

But it's always the same. I lacked the energy and courage to point it out.

Hey!

Rin seeming unable to calm her anger just by defeating our mother in an argument, turned on me.

What?

I met her eyes. I hate this.

You better not get close to that girl either. I hate seeing you with her.

Despite my intention not to comply, I found myself nodding reflexively.

I was despaired by my own actions. I was hopeless.

But . . . the feeling of resignation was much stronger than that.

Hmm. Maybe I didn't even need to say it.

She seemed to have regained a bit of her composure.

Her expression softening, Rin stood up and hugged me.

Right. After all, you're always on my side . . . No, you're mine alone . . .

Yeah . . .

I looked up at the ceiling and nodded.

In this house, there was no point in ever angering Rin unnecessarily.

◆

The classroom during the rainy season after school was extremely humid.

Since the air conditioning was off, the air grew warm and damp, clinging to my body.

Sweat seeped all over me, dampening the loose-leaf papers under my arm.

Unfortunately, it was the section where important formulas were written. It was all smudged.

Ah, great.

I muttered softly.

It's not unreadable, but it somewhat ruined my enthusiasm.

Maybe I'll take a little break.

I let my mechanical pencil drop and stretched lightly, causing a slight cracking sound in my shoulders.

There's a discomfort as if heat was trapped inside my body.

Looking out the closed window, I saw the drizzling rain fall.

Compelled by the rainy scene, I faintly sensed the smell of wet soil.

The smell of the rainy season.

It's neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but it stuck in the nostrils and left a strong impression.

Tired, huh?

From the other side of the two desks pushed together, a girl with her bangs tied up above her forehead whispered, peering into my face with sleepy eyes.

She was Mizuki Asayama. A childhood friend from kindergarten.

Just a bit. Also, the dampness is really killing my motivation.

Mizuki and I were reviewing lessons in the deserted classroom after school.

It was a casual study session, though not planned.

Both of us were waiting for someone else and happened to be free, so we decided to help each other with difficult topics to kill time.

So here we were, facing each other across desks by the window, studying.

It's not going too well, though.

Totally get that. Phew.

Mizuki suddenly grabbed the hem of her skirt and began fanning herself vigorously.

I couldn't see much, but glimpses of her knees and sweat-dampened thighs caught my eye . . .

I discreetly looked away.

It's so muggy. Ah . . . I wish they'd let us use the air conditioner after school . . .

I can see them, you know.

Feigning nonchalance, I pointed this out.

Mizuki, blushing, loosened her lips into a shy smile.

Then, she let go of her skirt.

Sorry. But it's just you, Mamoru, so I thought it's okay.

Mizuki was generally friendly. This made her approachable, but often led to misunderstandings with the boys. Though normally, she's a bit more careful.

This lax attitude came out only when she was alone with me.

It must be because she trusted me, having known me since we were children.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me happy.

But more than being happy, there was a sense of frustration and regret.

Because, after all . . .

It's like we're siblings, so I guess I let my guard down. Haha.

The word siblings caused a slight, sharp pain deep in my chest.

But I didn't show it on my face. I swallowed the sentiment.

Mizuki meant no harm . . . She didn't know how I felt, anyway . . .

I guess so.

I nodded.

By the way, which am I? The younger brother? Or the older?

Huh? Um, well, you're . . . like a reliable little sister, I guess?

Hey.

Hehe . . . sorry. But Mamoru, you're like really cute.

Cute.

For a moment, I was lost for words.

Well, I guess I am cute. Maybe even more than you, Mizuki.

Huh? Hmm, I don't know . . . I think I'm just slightly cuter?

Oh, wow. She just called herself cute . . . ! Well, she was probably just joking.

But indeed, Mizuki was cute.

Her petite stature and round eyes were charming, and her airheaded, warm demeanor made her endearing. A little dippy might be the best word to describe her.

Anyway, she's someone you just couldn't help but want to take care of.

The only slight downside was her somewhat rounder facial outline, which might not be to everyone's preference. But she wasn't overweight, and that too was part of her charm . . . She also had a fairly large bust, not that I cared.

That's true. Mizuki you're really pretty.

I smiled wryly.

Geez . . .

Mizuki handed me a clipboard.

I accepted the red, semi-transparent clipboard, puzzled.

What's this? Are you giving it to me?

No, I'm giving you a chance to make up for what you just said. Fan me.

I nodded and began fanning myself instead.

A lukewarm breeze brushed against my face. It wasn't cool at all.

You're doing it wrong! You're supposed to be fanning me. Not yourself, Mamoru.

I'm not fanning someone who calls me a younger sister.

Aww . . .

Mizuki squinted slightly.

By the way . . .

I've been feeling bad for your boyfriend of late.

What are you talking about all of a sudden?

Mizuki looked puzzled at the sudden change in topic.

Well, you know. Like the thing with your skirt earlier . . . Even though we've been friends since childhood, I'm still a guy. You acting so relaxed around me might not sit well with your boyfriend.

Ah . . .

Mizuki currently had a boyfriend. They've been dating for about a month.

He's a senior, one year ahead of us in school.

He was not only friendly and tall, but handsome with great athletic skills. He served as the captain of the soccer team, and was in a science-oriented advanced class, meaning he had brains and brawn.

There simply was no area where he didn't excel.

Over the past month, I've repeatedly seen the two of them walking together, both on and off campus.

They looked perfect together.

Mizuki always chose guys who were the complete opposite of me.

Every time Mizuki got a boyfriend, I felt like my very existence was being denied.

It's a harsh reminder that Mizuki would never see me as a man.

Never see me as a romantic partner.

So, for years, I've just been nurturing this affection, continuously soaking in a lukewarm relationship that never progresses. Telling her how I felt would just be pointless.

I'd hate not being able to talk to you, Mamoru. We've been friends since we were little . . .

Mizuki looked up at me with a pleading gaze.

Like a child afraid of being abandoned.

If she's going to make that face, why doesn't she . . .

The words almost escaped, but I swallowed them just in time.

Hmm.

Instead, I shift gears, refocus my emotions.

I think the reason your past relationships didn't last is because you're too close to me. At least, that's what your fourth boyfriend said last month when you broke up.

Mizuki's current boyfriend was her fifth.

Meaning, she had dated and broken up with four guys so far.

Each time she went through a breakup, I found myself feeling a bit happy. It was a somewhat guilty feeling.

Despite my inaction, I couldn't help but hope for something.

Maybe we should keep some distance, or else you might end up breaking up again?

Hm . . . But, Toma doesn't really mind you know . . .

Toma was the nickname of her current boyfriend.

As for his actual name . . . I couldn't remember what it was.

Really? Can you say that for sure?

Mizuki frowned deeply and collapsed onto the desk.

She spread out flat like a lump of clay dropped on the floor.

He really doesn't mind . . . I think.

Her sulky tone suggested a lack of certainty.

Mizuki often consulted me about her boyfriends, but that didn’t mean I knew everything about her romantic affairs.

For instance, she had never told me the reasons for any of her breakups with her ex-boyfriends.

However, the fourth boyfriend was an exception. He had truly resented my closeness with Mizuki. He told me himself that was the reason they broke up.

I still couldn't forget his face, twisted with bitterness.

So perhaps Mizuki didn't tell me why she broke up with her boyfriends because . . . she knew I was the reason . . .

Why don't you ask him directly if it bothers him?

After hearing my suggestion, Mizuki raised her face to look at me.

Mamoru, do you . . . hate me or something?

She looked at me with puppy eyes.

Of course not!

I hurriedly tried to soothe her.

I could never hate you, Mizuki. It's just that I think . . .

Mizuki cut me off with force.

Then, it's fine.

You know, you don't have to be so mean . . .

Mizuki buried her face in the desk and went silent.

She was totally sulking now.

Mizuki could be really stubborn. I've learned this the hard way over the years.

At first, I stood my ground, staring her down, but gradually it became unbearable. It's not like I wanted to become distant from Mizuki. I only suggested it because I cared about her. And if it led to her ending it with her current boyfriend, that would be great . . . No, I shouldn't think like that.

After all, what's most important to Mizuki is something only she can understand. So, if she said she didn’t want to be away from me, maybe the best thing I could do was just stay near.

I'm just making up excuses . . .

I was hopeless.

Sorry.

Mizuki slowly lifted her face.

For what?

For meddling. It's not right for me to interfere with your relationship issues.

Mizuki glared at me intently.

After staring at each other for a few long seconds, she finally spoke.

You're absolutely right . . . Please, don't say things like that again, okay . . . ?

Gotcha.

So, we're still friends, right?

Yes. As long as you don't get tired of me.

I knew something was wrong, yet I couldn't bring myself to think about it deeply, and I hated that about myself.

Every time Mizuki talked to me about her boyfriends, I hurt and suffered, and yet I tried to look away even from that painful realization.

Being around Mizuki only brought pain.

Yet I couldn't find it in myself to walk away.

That won't happen.

Mizuki smiled happily.

I see.

The smile on my face was a bitter one.

I wish she'd get tired of me.

I wish I could dislike her.

But in the end, that would never happen.