The apartment was quiet when we got back.
Rory had shrunk back to her usual size somewhere in the alley; she said that dont wanted to bother to walk back home so she retreated to the familiar twelve centimeters like a cat curling up in its favorite spot. She rode in the backpack pocket, unusually silent. Tamamo sat beside her, a tiny hand resting on Rory's shoulder. Neither of them said much on the walk home.
I didn't say much either. I was too busy trying to remember how to walk.
My center of gravity had shifted. My hips swayed in ways I didn't intend. My chest—my chest—pulled at me with every step, a weight I'd never experienced before, both literal and figurative. The military uniform Rory had somehow manifested onto me fit perfectly, but it felt like wearing someone else's skin. Which, technically, I was.
The streets were dark. The streetlamps cast yellow pools of light that I avoided by instinct. I didn't want anyone to see me. Not like this. Not yet.
When we finally reached the apartment, I locked the door behind us—checked it twice, three times—and stood in the darkness of the hallway, not moving, not speaking, just breathing.
"César." Tamamo's voice was gentle. "You should sit down. You're shaking."
I looked at my hands. She was right. They were trembling—not the violent tremors of the alley, but a fine, persistent vibration, like a plucked string that hadn't stopped resonating.
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
"You literally died," Rory said, crossing her arms. "You're not fine. Sit down before you fall down."
I sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress creaked under my weight—a different weight now, distributed differently, felt differently. Everything felt different. The way my hips settled against the blankets. The way my hair fell across my shoulders. The unfamiliar heaviness on my chest.
"So..." I said, and my voice still sounded strange to my own ears, but at least cute.
"What now?"
"Now," Rory said, hopping onto the nightstand,
"we figure out where to go from here. But first—are you okay? Really okay? Not 'I'm fine' okay, but actually okay?"
I opened my mouth to give the automatic answer. Then I closed it. Looked at my hands. At the long fingers, the manicured nails, the blue hair that fell in waves over my shoulders.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know what I am. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. I died. I literally died. And now I'm... this." I gestured vaguely at my body. "I don't know how to process any of it."
"That's fair," Rory said, settling onto the pillow beside me. "I'd be more worried if you were fine. Dying is traumatic. Coming back from dying is also traumatic. Doing both in the same hour is..."
"A lot?"
"I was going to say 'a Tuesday in my realm,' but yes. Also a lot."
A laugh escaped me. Just a small one, barely more than a breath, but it was real. Trust Rory to find a joke in the apocalypse.
Tamamo had already made her way to the kitchen
"I can't believe you knew how to dispose of a body"
Rory hopped out of the backpack and onto the kitchen table. Her movements were slower than usual, wearier, but her voice still carried that familiar edge of divine confidence.
"It wasn't a body. It was a puddle. Everything was melted. Liquefied. It was more like throwing away a smoothie."
"A smoothie."
"A chunky smoothie. With... bits.....of meat"
"The point is, it wasn't difficult. The slime's acid did most of the work. I just had to... contain the remains. Pour them into a container. "Dispose of the container in a drain sewer three blocks away." She paused.
"Why are you turning green? Can slimes turn green? Is that a thing?"
"I think I'm going to be sick."
"No, you're not. You're a slime now. You don't have a stomach. Well, you do, but it's decorative. You are just one water piece"
"I don't even know if you're classified as single cell now or even still a living being"
"Your brain is full of the same thing inside your ass"
"You are not helping"
I leaned against the wall and slid down until I was sitting on the floor. My new legs stretched out in front of me—long, shapely, covered in the dark fabric of the uniform. They didn't look like my legs. They looked like someone else's.
In the distance, a siren wailed.
I froze.
"There's a patrol car," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
"They're looking for me."
"They're not looking for you." Rory's voice was firm but gentle.
"Listen to me. This neighborhood has sirens every night. Every single night."
"We're in a poor neighborhood, remember?"
"There's always a siren somewhere. It's probably a robbery. Or a domestic dispute. Or someone who had too much to drink and punched a wall. It's not about you."
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm a goddess. I know things."
Another siren. Closer this time. Or maybe not. Maybe my new ears, fox ears, twitching and rotating on top of my head—were picking up sounds differently. Everything sounded different now. Sharper. Clearer. The hum of the refrigerator was a roar. The drip of the kitchen faucet was a drumbeat. My own heartbeat was a war drum.
"I keep forgetting about those," I muttered.
"They're cute," Tamamo said.
"Very expressive. Right now they're doing the thing mine do when I'm stressed."
"They are?"
"Flattened against your head. Like a cat who just saw a cucumber."
"Great. My ears are betraying my emotional state to everyone."
Tamamo, despite her size, was already in the kitchen. I watched her navigate the counter with practiced grace—she'd learned to use a stool made of stacked books to reach the higher cabinets, and a series of makeshift ramps to move heavy objects. Right now she was pushing a small plate across the counter, her fox ears twitching with concentration.
"You need to eat," she said without looking up. "Your new body needs energy. It's been through a lot."
"I'm not hungry."
"I don't care. You're eating anyway."
I watched her work. She'd found crackers—the cheap kind that came in plastic sleeves—and arranged them on a plate with careful precision. Beside them, a small cup of chocolate milk. Not real chocolate milk—we couldn't afford real chocolate milk—but the powder mixed with regular milk, stirred until the lumps dissolved.
"We don't have much," she said, and there was a note of apology in her voice. "But it's something."
"It's perfect," I said, and meant it.
I ate the crackers. I drank the chocolate milk. Tamamo sat on the edge of the plate, her tiny legs dangling over the ceramic rim, and watched me with those apphireen eyes that never seemed to miss anything. Rory had retreated to the desk, giving us space, but I could feel her presence like a steady anchor at the edge of my awareness.
"Better?" Tamamo asked.
"A little."
Rory climbed onto my knee. "Hey."
"Hey."
"You did good today. Stupid, but good."
"Thanks. I think."
"It's a compliment. Take it." She paused.
"The uniform looks good on you, by the way. I put it on you while you were... adjusting. It's your OC's outfit. The one from your novel."
I looked down at the dark military-style fabric, the gold buttons, the fitted cut that hugged curves I still couldn't believe were mine. "How did you...?"
"The slime's body responds to your self-image. But it needed a starting point. So I gave it one." She shrugged, a tiny movement. "You're welcome."
"Wait." Something she said caught up with me.
"The uniform is part of the slime? It's not real fabric?"
"Nope. It's all you. Which means, technically..." Her smile turned mischievous.
"You're naked right now"
I stared at her.
Then I looked down at myself.
Then I looked back at her.
"Rory."
"Yes?"
"You put me in a uniform that's actually my own body."
"Technically, yes."
"So I've been naked this entire time." I felt my face flush.
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"
"Because you had bigger things to worry about. Like, you know, the existential crisis. The body transformation. The whole 'I just died' thing. Your fashion situation seemed low priority."
"But it's a very flattering naked. Very military. Very 'I could kill you but I'd look good doing it.'"
"I hate you."
"You love me. It's different." She patted my knee.
"There's a pair of pajamas in your drawer. They're old, and they have a hole in the sleeve, but they're actual fabric. You might feel better in something... real."
She had a point. I rummaged through my drawer until I found my old set of pajamas. My old pajama sweater was not in the best of shape, but it fit, a little. The pants I had to roll up at the cuffs because my legs were shorter now.
There was also a beanie. An old one, navy blue, slightly frayed at the edges. I pulled it over my head without thinking, and something about it—the familiar weight, the way it covered my hair and the strange new fox ears that kept twitching at every sound—made me feel calmer. More like myself. Whatever "myself" meant now.
"The ears are going to be a problem," I muttered, adjusting the beanie.
"They keep catching on the fabric."
Suddenly, my phone buzzed.
I stared at the screen. Mizuki's name glowed in the darkness.
Are you okay? I didn't see what happened. I ran like you told me to. Please tell me you're okay. I've been calling. Please answer. Please.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. What was I supposed to say? Yes, I'm fine, except I died and now I'm a woman and also a slime and also I have fox ears. That would go over well.
"Don't just stare at it," Rory said, climbing onto my shoulder.
"Answer her."
"What do I say?"
"The truth. Well, part of the truth. The part she can handle."
"Which part is that?"
"That you're alive. That you're safe. That she doesn't need to worry." She paused.
"Everything else can wait."
"I can just...."
"Then ignore it," Rory said, reading over my shoulder.
"No—wait. Give me the phone."
"What? No—"
But she'd already hopped onto my hand and was typing with her tiny fingers, faster than I could stop her.
Everything's fine. No problems. Don't worry. I'll explain later. -C
"Rory!"
"What? It's a perfectly normal response. She'll believe it."
"She literally saw me get attacked by an alien!"
"She saw something weird happen, and then she ran away. She probably thinks she hallucinated half of it. Trust me, this is better than leaving her on read."
I looked at the message. It was already sent. There was no taking it back.
"You're impossible."
"I'm helpful. There's a difference."
The response came almost immediately.
Thank God. I was so scared. I thought you... I don't know what I thought. I'm just glad you're okay. We need to talk.
Sleep didn't come easily.
I lay in bed, staring at the galaxy lamp's slow rotation, and tried to ignore the fact that my body felt completely wrong. Not wrong in the way my old body had felt wrong—that was a different kind of wrong, a deeper kind. This was just... unfamiliar. The weight on my chest. The curve of my hips. The way my fox ears pressed against the pillow.
"I can't sleep," I announced to the ceiling.
"Obviously," said the lump on the pillow next to me. Rory.
"You've been tossing and turning for an hour."
"I used to sleep on my stomach."
"Welcome to womanhood. It's all heavy. You get used to it." She paused. "Actually, no, you don't. But you learn to complain about it effectively."
"So... how am I supposed to sleep now?"
Rory, who had already settled onto her pillow—the little one she'd claimed as hers from day one—looked up.
"Excuse me?"
"I mean, how am I supposed to sleep? With these." I pointed at my chest. My big breasts.
"I used to sleep on my stomach. Now I can't. Because I have... these."
Rory blinked.
Then, to my absolute humiliation, she burst out laughing.
"THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT?!"
"IT'S A PERFECTLY VALID CONCERN!"
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"
"Rory, I'm serious! They're huge! I don't know what I'm supposed to do with them!"
Tamamo, who was sitting on the nightstand, cleared her throat softly.
"If I may," she said with her characteristic calm, "I do have some experience in that department."
I looked at Tamamo. Wearing her pajamas, she made herself stitch together some old rags with space to show her nine tails too. Even in her twelve-centimeter form, her chest was noticeably generous.
"All right," I said, carefully flopping onto the bed.
"I'm open to advice."
"First: don't sleep on your stomach. It's awful. You wake up with back pain, and everything feels squished."
"I already figured that one out."
"Second: sleeping on your side is better. Put a pillow between your arms, like this." She gestured with her tiny hands. "Then just let everything settle naturally."
"Third," Rory cut in, "if anyone gives you trouble about their size, let me know. I have a halberd, and I know how to use it."
"That's not sleeping advice."
"It's life advice. It still applies."
I sighed.
Carefully, I climbed into bed, trying to find a position that wasn't uncomfortable. On my side, just as Tamamo had suggested. With a pillow between my arms. She kept giving me more tips about How to sit without crushing my tail—"Tuck it to the side, like this, see?"—and how to position my ears so they didn't catch on doorframes. It was exhausting and humiliating and also, strangely, the most cared-for I'd felt in years.
It worked.
More or less.
"See?" Rory's voice came from her pillow. "It's not that hard."
"Easy for you to say. You're flat."
Silence.
"...Excuse me?"
"I said—"
"OH, I HEARD YOU PERFECTLY."
"It was an observation. Not an insult. Your breasts are small. That's just a fact."
"They're proportional!"
"They're adorable," Tamamo chimed in.
"Like a doll's."
"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!"
"It was a compliment."
"IT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE A COMPLIMENT!"
I curled up beneath the blankets, my hood covering my head, my fox ears flattened against the pillow. I was exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally exhausted. But for the first time all day, I felt... safe.
"Good night, Rory."
"Good night, Flatty."
"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME THAT!"
"Good night, Tamamo."
"Good night, César. Sweet dreams."
I closed my eyes.
I woke up with the sun in my face and a strange feeling in my chest.
Literally, my breasts moved every time I breathed. It was a new sensation. Not unpleasant, exactly, just... nice to feel them there.
"Good morning," said Tamamo from the nightstand. She was always the first to wake up. "Did you sleep well?"
"I think so." I sat up carefully. "I don't remember my dreams, so there wasn't any nightmare to worry about despite all that happened. That's good."
"Very good." She handed me a tiny cup. "Tea. It'll do you good."
I accepted it with a gesture of thanks. The tea was hot, slightly bitter, and it helped me focus my mind.
Rory was still asleep. She was curled up on her pillow, her halberd leaning against the nightstand. Even in dreams, she never parted from her weapon.
I got out of bed carefully—my hips moved in ways I still didn't fully control—and walked over to the desk. The computer was waiting for me, as always. The blank document. The blinking cursor.
Chapter 358.
I sat down in front of the keyboard. My hands rested on the keys. Smaller. Softer. But they were still my hands.
I wrote a line. Deleted it. Wrote another. Deleted that too.
The cursor kept blinking.
"Stuck?" Tamamo's voice sounded beside me. She had climbed onto the desk without me hearing her.
"Yeah. I don't know what to write."
"Maybe you need time. After what happened last night..."
"It's not just last night." I pulled my hands away from the keyboard.
"It's... everything."
"I feel like if I stop for a moment, I will think about what happened, about what I am now, about what it all means... I'll fall apart. So I can't stop. I have to keep doing things. If I stop, I start thinking. And if I start thinking..."
"You fall apart," Tamamo finished.
"Exactly."
Rory yawned from the bed. "Did someone say 'fall apart'? Because I have a solution for that."
I turned toward her. "What solution?"
"Your pills. The antidepressants. The ones you used to take." She sat up, rubbing her eyes.
"Where do you keep them?"
My stomach tightened.
"No."
"César—"
"No. I hate them." My voice came out harsher than I intended.
"I don't want to take them again."
Rory stared at me. "They helped."
"They didn't help." I stood up. "I don't like what they do to me. They don't take away the fear. They don't take away the sadness. It's all still there. All they do is... take away my reaction. Like putting a muzzle on my emotions. The fear is still there, the sadness is still there, but I can't express it. I can't cry. I can't scream. I can only... float. Like a ghost inside my own body."
Rory fell silent.
"I took them for some time," I continued. "After what happened in high school. After I was accused. After... you know." I couldn't say the word. "And every day I felt empty. Not better. Empty. Like someone had turned off all the lights and I was there, in the darkness, unable to move."
"But they kept you alive," Rory said, her voice softer.
"That they did." I looked her in the eyes. "But I don't just want to survive anymore, Rory. I used to settle for that. Now... now I want more. I want to feel. Even if it hurts. Because if I don't feel the pain, I don't feel the other stuff either. And the other stuff... the other stuff is what makes it all worthwhile."
Rory didn't respond. She stayed still, her red eyes fixed on mine. Then, very slowly, she nodded.
"Okay," she said. "No pills. But if you ever change your mind—"
"I'll tell you."
"Promise."
"Promise."
Tamamo, who had been listening in silence, cleared her throat.
"There's something I don't understand," she said, her fox ears tilted in a gesture of confusion. "You always talked about wanting to be a woman. About wanting this body. And now you have it. Why are you frustrated?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
"It's complicated," I said finally.
"I have time." She sat on the edge of the desk, her legs dangling over the void. "Millions of years, in fact. As a certain goddess never tires of reminding me."
"HEY!" Rory raised her head. "That's mine!"
"I lent it to you. Give it back when you're done."
I looked at her. At Tamamo, with her infinite patience and her apphireen eyes that had seen stars born and die. And suddenly, the words started pouring out.
"I had a life. An identity. I was César. A man. A failure, sure, but it was MY failure. My mistakes. My defeats. My little victories. Now..." I looked down at my hands. "Now I don't know who I am. I don't know if I'm César. I don't know if I'm her." I gestured to my body. "I don't know if I can enjoy this. I don't know if I SHOULD enjoy it. Because part of me wants to. Wants to look in the mirror and say 'I'm beautiful.' But another part says I don't have the right. That this isn't mine. That it was given to me by accident, not because I deserved it."
I paused. The words kept coming, like water from a broken dam.
"And besides... I still like girls. That hasn't changed. I don't want to date a guy. I don't want this to mean I have to change everything about who I am. I want to keep being me. But I don't know who 'me' is right now."
Silence filled the room.
Then Rory got up from her pillow. She walked to the edge of the bed, jumped onto the desk, and planted herself in front of me.
"Can I talk?"
"Go ahead."
"Thanks." She crossed her arms. "First: you're an idiot."
"That's not very—"
"Shut up. I'm talking." She pointed a finger at me. "You're the same person you were yesterday. Same tastes. Same personality. Same desire to write novels no one reads. The body doesn't change that."
"But—"
"Second: no one has to know. You don't have to announce it on the news. You don't have to update your WhatsApp status. You can keep being César. Period. If your sister shows up, don't answer her. If someone asks, say it's you and leave it at that. You don't owe anyone explanations."
"But my ID—"
"Your ID says 'male.' So what? You don't have to renew it for another ten years. By then, we can definitely change the M to an F. And if not, we bribe someone. I have experience with bribes."
"Really?"
"In my thousand years of life, I've bribed at least three emperors. It's easier than it looks."
I blinked. "I don't know if that reassures me or worries me."
"It's a fact. Do with it what you want." She continued with her list. "Third: the résumé. The ones you sent say 'César.' Male. When they ask, you say it was an administrative error. A mix-up. You send corrected ones. End of problem."
"That's... surprisingly practical."
"I'm a practical goddess." She leaned toward me. "And fourth, and most importantly: you're not alone. You have us. And we're not going anywhere. Understood?"
Something loosened in my chest. Not completely. But a little.
"Understood."
"Good." She nodded, satisfied. "Now stop worrying and get to writing. That's what I pay you for."
"You don't pay me."
"I pay you in love. It's the most valuable currency."
"That doesn't pay the rent."
"Details."
My phone buzzed.
I looked at the screen.
Mizuki:I need to see you. In person. Today. Please.
I stared at the message. My heart—my new heart, beating in my new chest—raced.
"She wants to meet," I said. "In person."
"Obviously," Rory said. "She's worried about you. You did just save her life."
"I can't see her. Not like this. She'll—"
"She'll what? Freak out? She already saw you get attacked by an alien slime. I think she can handle you looking different."
"It's not that simple."
"It's exactly that simple. She's your friend. She cares about you. She's probably been up all night wondering if you're okay. And you're going to tell her..." Rory paused. "What are you going to tell her?"
"I don't know. I was just going to say we can talk at the next lesson."
Silence.
"César," Tamamo said gently. "That's... that's not what she needs to hear."
"I know, but—"
"She's not asking about the next lesson. She's asking about you. About whether you're alive. About whether you're hurt. She's probably terrified, and the only thing she wants right now is to see with her own eyes that you're okay."
"And you just told her to wait until the next lesson?" Rory crossed her arms.
"Idiot. Complete idiot. Do you have any idea how to read a social situation?"
"Just give me that phone, I am going to write a real answer for you again" She said while stealing my smartphone
"I've never had social situations to read! I've been alone for ten years!"
"Well, you're not alone anymore! You have a friend! A friend who is currently panicking because she watched you get attacked by a monster and then you sent her a text that said 'everything is fine' like some kind of—"
There was a knock at the door.
Both of us froze.
"Are you expecting someone?" Tamamo asked.
"No."
Another knock. Harder this time. And then a voice
"César? It's me."
Mizuki.
"César? Are you there?"
I froze completely. I literally couldn't move. My feet had turned into blocks of concrete.
"Open the door!" Rory hissed from the desk. "She's looking for you!"
"I can't!"
"What do you mean you can't?!"
"Look at me!" I pointed at my body. "I'm a woman! With fox ears! And a tail! I can't answer the door like this!"
Tamamo peeked through the window. "She's not alone. There's someone else with her. A young woman. She's wearing a maid uniform. That must be Kurumi."
"Kurumi?"
"The maid she mentioned yesterday. The one her parents sent to keep an eye on her."
From the other side of the door came raised voices. An argument. Mizuki and someone else. I strained my hearing—my new fox ears were surprisingly sensitive—and managed to make out their words.
"—I told you not to follow me." It was Mizuki. Her voice, usually so composed, sounded shaken.
"My duty is to protect you, Miss." A deeper, calmer voice. Kurumi. "And I don't believe it's appropriate for you to visit a man's apartment by yourself."
"He's not just any man! He's...!" Mizuki cut herself off.
"He's what, Miss?"
Silence. Then Mizuki's voice, quieter now but filled with emotion.
"He's the man who saved my life last night."
Kurumi didn't answer right away.
"That doesn't change the fact that it isn't appropriate—"
"I don't care what's appropriate!" Mizuki's voice rose. "I'm tired of what's appropriate! Tired of what my father wants! Tired of what my psychologist says! Tired of being called a psychopath and treated like I'm going to break at any moment!"
"Miss, please lower your voice—"
"I'm not going to lower my voice! For once in my life, I'm not going to lower my voice!" There was a loud thud, as if she had slammed her hand against the door. "He's the only person who's ever treated me like a human being. The only one who doesn't see me as an asset, or a diagnosis, or an heiress. He sees ME. And I owe him my life. And I'm... I'm..."
Her voice broke.
"I'm in love with him."
The silence that followed was absolute.
I was still frozen beside the door, hardly daring to breathe.
Rory, standing next to me, was grinning like she'd just won the lottery.
"I told you," she whispered.
"I. TOLD. YOU."
"Rory, shut up."
"The corporate princess is in love with you! THIS IS BETTER THAN ANY NOVEL!"
"RORY!"
From the other side of the door, Kurumi's voice came again, softer this time.
"Miss... are you sure?"
"Completely." Mizuki's voice no longer trembled. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."
"But your father..."
"My father isn't here. My psychologist isn't here. It's just me. And for once, I want to do what I want. Not what everyone else expects of me."
Another pause. Then Kurumi sighed.
"Very well. But if this goes wrong—"
"It won't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know him."
And then Mizuki Hoshikawa, heiress to a corporate empire, said the words that pierced me like a knife.
"He's the best person I've ever met in my life. And if I don't open this door right now, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."
I looked down at my hands.
My new hands.
And on the other side of the door, someone needed me.
"César."
Tamamo's voice came from beside me.
"Are you going to open it?"
"And what am I supposed to say? 'Hi, I'm César. I died last night, but I came back to life in the body of a slime girl with huge boobs. By the way, my name is still César, but now I'm a woman. Would you like some tea?'"
"Yes," Rory said.
"Exactly that. But skip the tea. We don't have any good tea."
"Rory, this isn't a joke."
"I know."
Her tone changed. It became serious.
"I know you're scared. I know you have no idea how she's going to react. But that girl crossed half the city to see you. She argued with her maid. She confessed her feelings in a public hallway. For you."
"That's not—"
"It's true. And you know it."
She looked me straight in the eyes.
"You don't have to tell her everything. You don't have to explain the slime, or your body, or the ears. But you do have to open that door and tell her you're okay. Because she saw you die, César. Or almost. And she's spent the whole night thinking it was her fault."
My fingers brushed against the doorknob.
"I'm not the person she remembers," I said quietly. "I'm someone else. Literally."
"You're the same person."
Tamamo placed her small hand over mine.
"On the inside. Where it matters."
"And if she doesn't like you," Rory added, "I can always threaten her with my halberd."
"Rory, you can't threaten everyone with your halberd."
"Sure I can. It's my hobby."
Despite everything, I smiled.
"All right."
I took a deep breath.
"I'm going to open the door. But if this goes badly, remember it was your idea."
"Noted," Rory said.
"We're with you," Tamamo said.
And then, before fear could stop me, I opened the door.