In the quiet corner of a dimly lit café, Satsuki sat draped in a cherry-blossom pink sweatshirt and a long, flowing skirt. She gently swirled the coffee cup resting before her, breaking the silence.
“Hey, Shota. If a man and a woman were to swap bodies, how do you think it would change their lives?”
Taken aback by the suddenness of the question, Shota offered a bewildered laugh.
“Where is this coming from all of a sudden? Have you been reading too much manga or something?”
“Maybe,” Satsuki said, her eyes gleaming with an eerie, unsettling intensity. “But if it were actually possible, don’t you think it would be fascinating?”
Slightly overwhelmed by her piercing gaze, Shota tried to laugh it off and brush the topic aside.
“Well, even if it were possible, I’d pass. It’s just easier being a guy.”
“Do you really think so?” Satsuki leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Then… want to find out?”
That single, fleeting phrase would dismantle Shota’s reality forever.
The next morning, the exact instant Shota opened his eyes, he was hit by a profound wave of somatic dissonance.
Shifting his limbs beneath the heavy blanket, he realized his body was blanketed in an entirely alien sensory landscape. He reached up; his hand brushed against a soft, rounded contour on his chest. He reached down; the anatomical weight that should have been there was entirely missing.
“What… what the hell is this?!”
Vaulting out of bed in sheer panic, Shota confronted the mirror. The reflection staring back at him was the most agonizingly familiar face in his life—the face of Satsuki.
“No way…”
As he stood there drowning in a sea of confusion, a soft knock rattled the bedroom door. In stepped Satsuki—or rather, a figure possessing Shota’s original, towering masculine frame.
“Good morning, Shota. So, how do you like my body?” Satsuki sneered, a smug grin playing on his old lips.
“W-why… why did you do this?!”
“Because I wanted to see what it was like to be a man. It seemed so much more convenient.”
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