Chapter 1: And So, the Story Begins

When I woke up that morning, I had become a different person. Moreover, my gender had changed; I was a girl.

A few minutes after that shocking awakening, having inspected every inch of my body atop the bed, I let out a sigh. Fine, delicate skin. Short limbs. I looked to be about the age of an elementary schooler. My developing body didn't yet possess any feminine curves.

I stood up unsteadily from the bed. Feeling a strange sense of dissonance with my body's balance, I stood before a large mirror in a room I didn't recognize. The moment I saw that face—framed by long black hair flowing down the back—I was struck with horror.

"Yukinoshita... Yukino...?"

Reflected there was the childhood form of Yukino Yukinoshita, the heroine of my favorite story, My Teen Romantic Comedy SNAFU.

"...Where is the real her?"

Along with the shock, the first thing I felt was a crushing sense of guilt. Where was the real Yukino Yukinoshita who existed before I took over this body? Where did she go? Did she die? How can I bring her back?

But above all else... more than anything...!

"What will happen to the story?"

Can a story even function if the casting is wrong from the start? Would that story I loved so dearly cease to exist because of me? That was something I couldn't endure.

That is why I decided to play the role of Yukino Yukinoshita.

From then on, I (Boku)—no, "I" (Watashi)—strained every nerve and effort to become the real Yukino Yukinoshita.

First, academics. I was never particularly good at studying, but I poured endless hours into it. Then, with a composed face that suggested I hadn't put in an ounce of effort, I accepted the praise of my teachers.

Ignoring my classmates chatting happily with their friends, I studied desperately. Thanks to that, I ended up with no friends, just like the real one—an unexpected but successful result. If I were to be Yukino Yukinoshita, I had to be solitary.

I met the expectations of my strict mother and desperately chased the shadow of my brilliant older sister. Acting as Yukino in front of Haruno was grueling. To be honest, I don't think I ever truly deceived her. While at the family home, I lived in constant anxiety, wondering when she would expose me as a fake.

I also worked tirelessly to acquire the elegant demeanor that suited such beauty. Never sit with legs open. Keep facial expressions minimal. Keep the spine perfectly straight. Always be conscious of the gaze of others.

For me, someone who originally had the consciousness of a man, this was nothing but torture. As the years passed, the list of requirements grew, weighing heavily on my far-from-clever mind. I corrected my behavior day after day until, eventually, I forgot how I used to carry myself in the first place.

Thus, the "Fake-no" (Fake Yukino) was complete. A patchwork imitation, far from the real thing. But for all intents and purposes, I was Yukino Yukinoshita.

Now, there is no need to recount the tedious details of my ugly efforts. What matters is the spring of my second year in high school. The beginning of the story.

By bringing the upcoming story to a Happy Ending, this play called "my life" would reach a significant milestone. However, by some twist of fate, now that a foreign object like myself has intruded, simply retracing the original plot perfectly can no longer be called the best possible happy ending.

In that case, I must direct the Happy Ending myself. If I don't, I will never be able to justify my existence as Yukino Yukinoshita for the rest of my life. I cannot allow others—the characters—to be deprived of happiness just because an anomaly like me exists.

My resolve was made long ago. All that remains is to direct the story as one of its actors.

The sunlight streaming through the open window illuminated the pages of the paperback in my hand. The light wavered, filtered by curtains fluttering in the breeze. The wind whistling past my ears and the sound of me turning pages; it was a peaceful space filled only with subtle sounds.

But I knew. This silence would soon end.

A moment ago, when I went to Shizuka Hiratsuka-sensei to get the clubroom key, I happened to see an essay on her desk. The student’s name was Hachiman Hikigaya. It was an incredibly "green" essay that rebelled against the status quo of youth, beginning with the line: "Youth is an evil." An arrogant claim—yet it was an expression of a conviction based on the cold observations of his surroundings and the realities of his short life.

Finally, I heard the sound of the story beginning.

An insolent knock echoed through the serene room. Simultaneously, Hiratsuka-sensei strode in gallantly.

"Excuse the intrusion, Yukinoshita."

"Sensei... isn't one supposed to wait for an answer after knocking?"

"Well, don't sweat the small stuff. —Hey, Hikigaya, get in here."

"What's this about, dragging me here so suddenly? Besides, I don't have anything to reflect on."

I looked at him as he stood by the door, speaking listlessly. Rotten eyes, an unreliable slouch, and a shock of hair—the ahoge—standing straight up in defiance of gravity.

It was him, without a doubt. Hachiman Hikigaya. The protagonist of the story I was obsessed with in my previous life. Seeing him appear before my eyes, I was deeply moved. The real Hachiman Hikigaya was standing right there. At that fact, my heart began to throb, and my cheeks felt slightly warm.

Maintaining a cool exterior, I directed a question to Hiratsuka-sensei.

"So, who is this... vacant-looking person?"

"Ah, he is Hachiman Hikigaya. A problem child who submits strange, creepy manifestos as essays. I thought I’d have him join you here in your service activities to fix that rotten personality of his."

"I refuse. I feel a sense of personal danger being alone in a club with such a suspicious individual."

I made a gesture of hugging my chest and glared at him. By the way, the chest I was "hugging" hadn't grown at all. As a fan, I admired this faithful recreation of the original. I wasn't frustrated. Not at all.

"Now now, he may not look it, but he’s a small-time crook capable of calculating risks and returns. He can't do anything significant anyway. In that sense, you can rest easy."

I knew that. He was the man who would later be called a "Monster of Logic." He wouldn't do anything reckless. But this confirmed it. If Hiratsuka-sensei, who has a sharp eye for people, said this, he was definitely the Hachiman Hikigaya I knew.

Because he had come here, it was beginning. That story. That beautiful, mistaken, yet forward-moving Teen Romantic Comedy.

But I knew. From the very start, there was a mistake in the casting. —A teen romantic comedy tainted by a fake can never end correctly.

While I was lost in thought, Hiratsuka-sensei left the room, saying, "I'll leave the rest to you." As the door slammed shut, I was left alone with Hachiman Hikigaya.

An awkward atmosphere lingered. If it were the real Yukino, she would surely act high-handedly and engage in a dialogue of insults. For now, I would trace Yukino Yukinoshita's thought process. That’s how I had lived my entire life.

I resolved myself, cleared my throat, and spoke.

"So, how long do you intend to just stand there?"

Slightly sullen at being treated rudely by a classmate he’d just met, Hachiman took one of the chairs stacked at the back of the room and sat down haphazardly. As he sat heavily and looked at my face, he averted his eyes slightly. He just got intimidated by how beautiful Yukino Yukinoshita is, didn't he? Keeping his gaze slightly turned away, he spoke.

"So, what kind of club is this?"

"Didn't you hear the explanation? This is the Service Club. We receive requests from students and resolve their problems. Well, simply solving it for them doesn't help the person in the long run, so we leave the final resolution to the person themselves. Something like that, I suppose?"

"Ah, so instead of giving a fish to a hungry man, you teach him how to fish?"

"You're surprisingly quick on the uptake, despite your appearance. Despite your appearance."

"Do you have to insult people to hold a conversation? ...Charity work, huh? I've been saddled with something troublesome."

"Since someone like you can actually be of use to society, I think you should be weeping with joy. Right, Kuzu-ya-kun (Waste-of-space-gaya)?"

"Stop giving me nicknames that accurately predict my future. My dream is to be a full-time househusband. Don't lump me in with good-for-nothings."

The scary part was that he could probably pull off being a house husband with ease. Someone like Hiratsuka-sensei would probably accept him in a heartbeat. I shook off those thoughts and spoke to the protagonist before me.

"So, am I supposed to rehabilitate you? ...Looking at those rotten eyes, the prospects seem dim. May I give up?"

"Excuse me? It's a bit troubling to have you give up on my rehabilitation without me even asking for it. Besides, I don't feel the need to be rehabilitated."

"To have no will to change is a despicable form of laziness. Do you have no spirit to move forward even a little?"

I threw out words I didn't truly believe—words I assumed "she" would say. What right did I have to speak, a person who hadn't even decided their own life but had merely moved forward in the skin of another?

"Changing isn't necessarily a good thing. Can you even call yourself a 'self' if you change because of one trivial trigger? If people could change that easily, everyone would already be their ideal selves."

He stated his philosophy boldly, his eyes meeting mine. Being stared at by those dark eyes made me feel like my shallow true nature was being seen through, and I looked away.

"That's nothing more than an excuse. If you don't try to change, you'll never become the person you envision."

I spoke an idealism that didn't suit me at all. At the very least, I had come close to the image of "her." But what about me? What about the "me" once the mask of "her" was removed? I felt a twinge of envy toward him and his steadfast sense of self.

"---Anyway, Hikigaya-kun. Since I've been told to cooperate, I'll see you tomorrow."

"...Yeah."

Hiratsuka-sensei hadn't mentioned anything about a "contest." She likely realized that instead of goading my competitive spirit, it was better to simply tell me to cooperate. Ignoring my acting, she saw right through my psychology. She was a truly difficult person to deal with.

I stopped in front of my apartment door and took my keys out of my skirt pocket. The keys had a keychain of a cute panda character called "Pan-san."

Yukino Yukinoshita would like something like this. I had started collecting Pan-san goods with that thought in mind, but before I knew it, I had come to like them myself. It had become a full-fledged hobby.

It wasn't uncommon for me to start liking the same things as the original Yukino. I prefer tea over coffee. I prefer solitude over socializing. I prefer cats over dogs.

One could say this was convenient for my "acting." However, I sometimes wondered: if my values were becoming those of Yukino Yukinoshita, then who was the "real," the "genuine" me? For someone who was a fake from the moment I woke up in this world, there was no way to know.

But I digress. This home, where I am completely alone, is the only place in the world where I don't need to act as Yukino.

I took off my uniform and changed into loose loungewear. Simultaneously, the "me" (Boku) who had cast aside the ladylike elegance and poise dived onto the bed. I landed face-up with a soft thud.

I felt the tension leave my body. I relaxed the back I had kept so straight and peeled away the expressionless mask I had kept pinned to my face.

Entering relaxation mode, I hugged my pillow and whispered softly.

"...I actually talked to the real Hachiman Hikigaya... Hehehe..."

I let out a laugh I could never show outside. To be honest, it wasn't a cool, high-pitched giggle; it was a level of creepiness that was hard to listen to. It wasn't just "out of character," it was a total breakdown, but it was fine. Right now, I wasn't Yukino Yukinoshita.

"Those rotten eyes were just like I imagined... I was sure of it when I saw that essay, but to think he actually came to the Service Club... Man, as a fan, I’m genuinely moved."

I recalled his image. The listless slouch. The standing ahoge. And his surprisingly well-featured face.

"...Wait?"

As I reminisced, I felt a strange sensation in my body. My cheeks were slightly hot, and my heart was racing. When I closed my eyes, Hachiman Hikigaya’s face appeared. It was... it was almost like... love.

The moment that thought crossed my mind, the blood drained from my face.

"—No! That's wrong!"

An unbearable nausea and sense of revulsion washed over me. I rushed into the bathroom.

"Impossible, impossible, impossible, impossible!"

I turned the faucet on full blast and splashed cold water on my face. I regained a bit of composure. Looking up, I met the eyes of a pale, beautiful girl. At that fact, the nausea returned.

"I'm a guy! I was definitely a guy! —But now, I'm a girl..."

I remembered what I had been thinking earlier. My tastes and preferences have been influenced by Yukino. I prefer tea over coffee. I prefer solitude over socializing. I prefer cats over dogs.

In that case, would it be strange if the object of my romantic affection shifted from women to men?

"...No."

My voice was much weaker than I expected.

Come to think of it, since waking up in this world, I had been too busy playing Yukino Yukinoshita to even think about romance.

Which one am I, truly? I couldn't find an answer to that question.

And so, another lonely night passed.