“Kita, don’t you think Kaisoku’s been acting weird since she got back from Tōdai?” Diamond propped her chin on one hand, watching the girl sit at her desk and mime holding a pen—writing invisible characters in the air despite having no paper in front of her.
“You don’t think she ran into some weirdo during the exam?”
“Probably not—it’s just post-exam syndrome.” Kita regarded the blank-eyed Kaisoku with firm conviction.
“After that kind of study binge, a few aftereffects are totally normal.
You wanna try it yourself?”
“Kaiso—”
“Kaisoku?
Has the Tōdai acceptance letter arrived?!” The instant she heard that first syllable, Kaisoku’s ears shot straight up and she whipped around to face Diamond, startling both girls.
“Let me see!
Did I fail?
No… failing would be normal…”
“Kaisoku, you literally took the exam yesterday.
These things don’t come that fast…” Kita sighed.
“Take it easy.
It’ll be fine.”
“…Right… right.” Kaisoku nodded vacantly.
“Don’t panic.
Don’t panic.”
“I have a feeling she’ll get in, though probably not the way she’s expecting.” Diamond tried to shake some life back into the girl, who seemed to have left her soul at the exam venue.
Kita was already voicing her complaints.
“But sitting around like this isn’t going to help.
Why don’t we change the scenery?”
“You’ve got a point, Kita…” Diamond could see Kaisoku wasn’t going to snap out of it anytime soon, but she realized she had no idea what Kaisoku’s hobbies were outside of studying.
So she leaned close to the still-dazed girl’s ear and whispered.
“Kaisoku, what are your hobbies?”
“Thigh-highs, absolute territory, armed schoolgirls.”
“?”
“Huh?
Weren’t you asking about the tags I use?” Kaisoku jolted awake.
The first thing that came to mind when she heard “hobbies” was the tags she used to put on her Pixiv illustrations.
Getting people to click on your art meant putting real thought into your tags—some people were so good at it they were called tag wizards.
“Hobbies… hobbies, huh.
Anime and games, I guess.”
“Okay… that first part scared me.
Tags?
Kaisoku, what have you been looking at…” Diamond patted her chest in relief.
“Games and anime are normal for our age.
Nothing wrong with that.”
“Just pretend I never said any of that…” Kaisoku had no idea how to explain to a normie the effort she’d poured into Pixiv tagging.
She changed the subject and followed Diamond’s lead, though this world’s media library had major differences from her own.
Some legendary titles, however, had survived the dimensional shift unchanged—
For example, every world had Ultrman and Kmen Rider.
She’d specifically checked: most landmark works from her world had near-identical counterparts here.
Like EA, or The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya: Shut-In Edition*.
Though the original Toujou Kaisoku’s life had been strictly two-point-one-line—self-training, dorm, sleep.
Pure to a degree that didn’t resemble a modern person.
…Wait—come to think of it, this girl barely even used her phone.
Kaisoku felt a flicker of exasperation.
Between the nonstop Tōdai cramming, she’d completely forgotten phones existed.
She fished hers out of her pocket now—a flip phone with serious vintage energy.
“Kaisoku’s hobbies are a lot like yours, Kita…” Diamond was probably the only one in the room who wasn’t really into anime.
She knew a thing or two about games, at least—her family had always had consoles around.
She’d played plenty of classics, like S*nic and such.
As for anime, her biggest reference point was probably… Pretty Cure.
A timeless masterpiece.
“So to celebrate Kaisoku finishing her exam, why don’t you both come over to my place?”
“…Dia, your house only has S*—”
“Hmm?”
“I think Sonic is great, actually.” Kita course-corrected instantly.
“Sny?
Nintndo?
Never heard of them.”
“Visiting the Satono residence?
Sure… I don’t see why not.
Waiting around won’t accomplish anything.
Might as well unwind a little.” Kaisoku had no objections—she genuinely needed a distraction.
Otherwise the anxiety would flatten her.
But before the three could leave, Kaisoku noticed a wall of unread messages on her phone.
She tapped through them, and her blood ran cold.
—Why didn’t you come to work?
—Again today?
—Kaisoku?
Are you okay?
—The boss says if you don’t show up soon, they’re hiring a replacement?!
—KAISOKU!!
ANSWER ME!
—…
Three full pages of unread texts sent the upstanding member of society that was Toujou Kaisoku into a spiral of existential dread.
You’re still a middle schooler!
You’re not even old enough to work legally!
What kind of employer hires child labor?!
Worse still, Kaisoku realized something truly terrifying—she was about to be fired.
“Um… Diamond-san, Kitasan-san, I might have something I need to take care of—” She immediately apologized to both of them, then turned and bolted.
“There’s something I absolutely have to deal with first!
We can visit your place later, Diamond-san!”
“Wha—?!” Diamond tried to grab her, but Kaisoku’s frantic figure had already vanished down the corridor like a gust of wind.
She’d never seen Kaisoku that flustered.
All she and Kita could do was exchange bewildered glances and sigh.
“I’M SO SORRY!!!” By scrolling through the old messages, Kaisoku managed to locate her workplace—thank god the original Kaisoku never cleared her texts.
She even dug up the onboarding message with the address attached.
She ran at maximum speed to her job, burst through the door, and dove straight into an apology—
“Ah…” Then she looked up and saw a black-and-white portrait of herself hanging front and center, flanked by fruit offerings.
Were they planning to send me off?
Her sudden appearance also drew the attention of a woman who’d apparently been pressing her palms together in prayer.
“Kaisoku—you’re not dead?”
“Why would I be dead?!
Ten Point-san!” Kaisoku snapped.
“Don’t just declare me dead like that!”
“Well, you were gone for almost two weeks.
I figured you’d finally starved to death somewhere.
Thought the least I could do was set up a proper memorial, even if we never found the body…” The woman called Ten Point—considerably older than Kaisoku—smiled as she spoke.
“But hey, as long as you’re alive.
If something had actually happened to you, I wouldn’t have been able to face the others.”
Ten Point Bar.
Kaisoku’s workplace—a bar run by retired umamusume Ten Point.
Despite the name, it was really more of a members-only club, open to a small circle of trusted regulars.
That exclusivity was precisely what allowed Kaisoku to work here despite being a minor, and the pay was decent, too.
Not that a middle schooler working at a bar was exactly above board.
Getting caught would mean trouble.
But since everyone who frequented the club was trustworthy, that was never really a concern.
Ten Point hadn’t originally planned to hire Kaisoku at all—apparently the girl had insisted until she relented.
In truth, while Kaisoku did earn her keep, the job was more of an excuse for Ten Point to look after her.
“Sorry… a lot happened recently.” Kaisoku explained the Tōdai situation as concisely as she could.
“I was buried in studying these past two weeks.
Work completely slipped my mind…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.
Whether you’re here or not doesn’t really change anything for the bar.” Ten Point waved a hand.
“We’ve got more than enough staff.”
“…That’s technically true, but hearing you say it kind of hurts…” Kaisoku muttered.
“Anyway, I’m truly sorry about missing work.”
“Something different happened to you during these two weeks, didn’t it?
The old you would’ve just shown up silently and gotten on her knees to apologize…” Ten Point narrowed her eyes.
“How do I put it—you’re a lot more talkative now.
You can even banter.”
“I guess… I made some friends.” Kaisoku offered.
“And I realized that being a shut-in forever wasn’t going to cut it in this world…”
“Well, you’re still Kaisoku to me.
But it’s nice that you’ve opened up a bit—and you’re more fun now, too.
Given that you had the guts to go for Tōdai, I’ll let you off the hook this time.
But considering how things might play out for you going forward—honestly, are you sure you can keep working here?” Ten Point asked.
“If you can’t, make sure to give me proper notice before you resign.”
“When the time comes…” Kaisoku wiped her brow.
The tone was gentle, but something about Ten Point was vaguely intimidating.
Being at fault didn’t help.
More to the point, the person inhabiting Kaisoku’s body now was no longer the original Kaisoku.
The seniors who’d once been close to the real Kaisoku would inevitably feel like strangers to her.
There was nothing to be done about it.
She wasn’t the real Toujou Kaisoku.
Even inheriting the body and its social connections, things could never be exactly the same.
Personality differences could be hand-waved as “growth,” but the finer details?
Anyone who truly knew Kaisoku would pick up on them.
Better to gradually distance herself from those people, before the mask slipped.
If anyone discovered that the soul inside Toujou Kaisoku wasn’t the original’s—she didn’t dare imagine what would happen.
Why was her situation so complicated?
Kaisoku sighed inwardly.
Ten Point had given her an out for whenever she was ready to leave, but Kaisoku still had her professional pride.
She changed into her work clothes and got to it.
Her station was the kitchen—making a social anxiety case work front-of-house would’ve been torture.
The work was straightforward: desserts, plus some fried chicken via the air fryer.
Her pre-transmigration job had been nothing like this, but years of solo living had given her capable hands.
Combined with the muscle memory the original Kaisoku’s body had retained, she often surprised herself—reaching for an ingredient she’d never consciously located, guided by a vague sense of it should be around here.
Faking competence wasn’t hard.
Probably.
“One jumbo parfait, up—” She rang the bell, and someone immediately whisked the dessert away from the pass.
Zero human interaction required.
She could work in complete isolation, which was exactly what Ten Point had arranged for her.
The old Kaisoku had probably lasted this long precisely because of that setup.
Not a bad gig, for someone with social anxiety.
Practically paradise.
But Kaisoku figured she wouldn’t be here much longer.
Between Tracen Academy and Tōdai, she’d be too busy to manage shifts.
And the more she showed her face around Ten Point, the higher the risk of exposure.
She felt bad about it, but she was planning to resign after tonight’s shift.
Tonight, in a sense, was a final handoff—for the sake of the real Toujou Kaisoku.
Whatever the future held could wait.
Kaisoku would do everything in her power to find happiness.
That was her sole objective for now.
Time flew.
The club closed around eleven.
Kaisoku emerged from the kitchen, untied her apron—and found Ten Point already walking toward her with an envelope.
She’d been rehearsing her resignation speech, but Ten Point beat her to it.
“Here, Kaisoku—your back pay, with a little extra on top.
Keep up the good work, okay?” Ten Point smiled.
“I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you, but I’m glad you’re facing life head-on.
That kind of courage isn’t something everyone can muster.
The fact that you can push past your weaknesses makes you pretty amazing.”
“…Ten Point-san, you already knew I was going to quit?”
“Well, you could just feel it in the air the moment you walked in.
This had a ‘one last time’ energy to it.
And I get it—when you’re stepping into a new chapter, sometimes you need to cut ties with the old one.
But we’re still friends, okay~?”
Ten Point’s perceptiveness caught Kaisoku off guard, but this was the best possible outcome.
She’d actually considered refusing the pay entirely—vanishing on the job like that hardly earned her the right to compensation.
Ten Point had never mistreated Kaisoku; she’d supported her in every way.
Kaisoku had come in intending to decline.
“Ahem—anyway, since I’m technically the one letting you go, the severance covers three months.” The envelope Ten Point pressed into her hands was heavy—weighted, it seemed, with everything Ten Point wished for the girl.
“You’re a good kid.
A really wonderful kid.
You worked hard the whole time you were here.
Once you’re actually old enough to work legally, the offer stands—I’d hire you again in a heartbeat.”
“…Thank you.” Kaisoku gripped the envelope.
Her gratitude was genuine.
“Thank you so much… Ten Point-san.”
“What’s there to thank?
I fired you, so of course you get triple pay.” Ten Point feigned sternness, but quickly softened again, bending down to embrace the still-small girl.
“Keep at it, okay?
And if you ever want to come back, the door’s always open.”
“…Yeah.” The girl’s voice caught.
She wasn’t the real Toujou Kaisoku, and she couldn’t even tell the truth.
But she was moved all the same—by this completely selfless kindness.
Even the original Kaisoku had been surrounded by people willing to help her, hadn’t she…
“Good luck, kiddo.”
“I’m off, then.” Kaisoku waved and disappeared into the night.
Ten Point stood in place for a long time, until Tosho Boy tapped her on the shoulder.
“If you’re that torn up about it, you shouldn’t have let her go.”
“Who says I’m torn up?!”
“You’re crying.”
“It’s raining.”
“Sure, sure…” Tosho Boy sighed.
“You know, Ten Point… wanna go get a drink somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“Alright.
Let’s go.”