Chapter 144: You Think a Sex Change Means I Won’t Beat You?
The Special Division arrived swiftly, mere minutes after Kamihara Shinji’s call. A young woman collected his handwritten anomaly report, then asked if he recognized her. Her face was unfamiliar, and he shook his head. Unbeknownst to him, she was the same agent who drove him back after he registered his group with the Special Division, even giving him her card. She left, visibly disappointed.
After breakfast, Kamihara headed to school. Unlike usual, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. Eavesdropping on students’ chatter, he realized the school festival had begun. Sakuraaki High’s festival, held in May, was new to him, having arrived post-traversal. It was a fortunate coincidence—no classes for a few days.
Noticing students’ stares, he felt a twinge of embarrassment. He was the only one carrying a backpack. In his classroom, bustling with preparations, he tossed his bag aside, intending to head to his club. His recent talk with Chihaya Masato, a publisher’s editor, had refined his light novel, pinpointing logical flaws and clichés. Fresh from containing the Human Body Hospital (Heart), he was eager to revise his manuscript.
“Kamihara-kun, h-hello,” a petite girl approached, visibly nervous.
“Kiyomiya-san, hello,” he replied, recognizing the class president.
“Eh? You know me?” Kiyomiya Rin’s eyes widened. As class president, she knew Kamihara’s name and his “gloomy guy” reputation among cliques. His absence during cleaning duties and rumored ties to senior delinquents made her wary. Yet, his mild tone surprised her, suggesting a misunderstanding.
“You’re the class president; of course I know you,” Kamihara said, eyeing the girl. “What’s up?”
“Well… the school festival’s coming, and we need everyone’s help these next few days,” Kiyomiya said cautiously. “Kamihara-kun, if you’re free, could you lend a hand?”
“Sure.” Expecting a bigger issue, he nodded. “Give me a few minutes.”
Kiyomiya nodded instinctively, then watched as Kamihara exited the classroom. Classmates, covertly observing, exchanged knowing looks—Kiyomiya had been rebuffed, as expected. Kamihara, oblivious to the festival and toting a backpack, seemed a slacker with poor grades and few friends. They held no hopes, merely noting the boys’ increased workload.
Outside, Kamihara left the school building, heading toward an abandoned sports storage shed. Laughter and jeers echoed within. Smiling, he pushed open the door. A dozen gazes met him.
“Kamihara?” The delinquents’ voices rang in unison, their faces darkening with malice.
“All here, huh?” Kamihara grinned, closing the door. Sunlight filtered through windows, casting the shed in dimness. Grabbing a stick from the floor, he scanned the group. The delinquents rose, tense.
“What do you want, Kamihara?”
“Drop the stick, jerk!”
“He’s alone—don’t back down!”
“I need a favor,” Kamihara said, gripping the stick.
“Let’s talk,” a scar-faced senior with dyed yellow hair, Shibao, stepped forward, wearing a third-year uniform. “We’re classmates, Kamihara. If you’re in trouble, we’ll help.”
Kamihara raised an eyebrow. “Since when are you so reasonable, Shibao, you loser?”
Shibao’s eyes narrowed, but he forced a smile. “It’s the festival. Let’s not cause trouble.”
Kamihara, skeptical, scanned the shed again. Spotting something, his face hardened, and he strode forward. Delinquents with past run-ins flinched, parting to reveal a girl in the center.
“Well, well,” Kamihara said icily. “Robbery not enough anymore? Now you’re harassing girls?”
These delinquents had evaded Kaoruko’s killing rule, likely never hearing New Beginning. “Bullshit!” Shibao snapped. “Kamihara, we’re busy. Get lost.”
Kamihara swung the stick, striking Shibao with lightning speed. A wail followed.
“Get him!”
“There’s a dozen of us!”
“Charge!”
One minute later, the delinquents lay groaning. The girl, trembling, attempted a flattering smile but faltered. Kamihara frowned, sensing familiarity but saying nothing, reaching for his phone to call the police.
“No… don’t call the cops!” Shibao panicked. If police arrived, explanations would fail. “She’s not a girl—she’s Hisaike Kento!”
“Hisaike Kento?” Kamihara, stick in hand, laughed. “You messing with me?”
“No…” Shibao, near tears, didn’t dare resist after Kamihara’s one-versus-dozen thrashing. “It’s really Hisaike. Look closely—familiar, right? He woke up a girl. We’ve been discussing it for days.”
Kamihara’s spiritual pressure confirmed Shibao’s truthfulness. Turning to the girl, he studied her. Her plain features, facial contours, and height matched Hisaike’s, and she wore a male uniform. The more he looked, the more stunned he became.
“Hisaike, you got a sex change? Think turning into a girl means I won’t hit you? This is an equal society—you’re not escaping.”
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 145: Hisaike, Don’t Gross Me Out
Kamihara Shinji knew Hisaike Kento well. In his first month post-traversal, feeling stifled, he vented by beating Hisaike daily, using him as a punching bag. Familiarity was inevitable. Hisaike had also goaded Koyama Kin into writing Kamihara’s name on the Hell Communication site, though Koyama’s stupidity was the root cause.
The betrayal irked Kamihara, so he’d roughed Hisaike up after school, hoping he’d retaliate via Hell Communication, justifying sending him to hell. Hisaike didn’t, and with Sakuraaki High’s delinquents seemingly reforming, Kamihara ignored them.
Today, with the festival and Kiyomiya’s request, he couldn’t refuse but had no intention of hauling chairs. The delinquents, gathered in the abandoned sports shed for shady plans, were perfect labor. He hadn’t expected to find Hisaike Kento transformed into a girl.
“Jerk, don’t slander me!” Hisaike, now a girl, tried to shout but produced a small, shrill voice. “I didn’t get a sex change. Even as a woman, my man’s heart remains!”
For days, Hisaike had been terrified. Noticing bodily changes, he thought he was ill, debating a clinic visit. Two days ago, he awoke female. To prove himself, he charged Kamihara, fists swinging—standing while his peers groaned was too conspicuous.
Kamihara watched, amused, sensing no lies. Someone had used a rule-based item, or an anomaly caused gender swapping. As he mused, Hisaike landed a weak punch. Kamihara scoffed. “Guess turning into a girl sapped your strength. So, have you been pleasing your buddies yet?”
Despite his delinquent ways, Hisaike played the charming track star, popular with girls, often flaunting his abs. Now, his female punches were feeble. “Screw you, Kamihara, you animal! Don’t insult our brotherhood!”
“Yeah, we’d never touch a friend!”
“Hisaike’s not even cute as a girl—how could we?”
“Rikuto, what the hell? We wouldn’t touch him if he was cute!”
The standing delinquents cursed, but Kamihara’s glare silenced them. “I’ll kill you!” Hisaike screamed, tears streaming, humiliated. Plain-looking, her crying lacked charm.
Having tested that male-to-female strength diminished, Kamihara struck Hisaike with the stick. She collapsed, sobbing pitifully, clutching her face. Her wails stirred faint guilt in Kamihara, but confirmed women cried endlessly.
“Enough. Hisaike stays,” Kamihara said, scanning the group. “The rest, report to Class 2-1.”
“For what?” Shibao, clutching his thigh—convinced it was broken but merely sore—limped.
“It’s the festival. You’re Sakuraaki students, aren’t you?” Kamihara snapped. “Everyone’s helping while you loaf. That right?”
They understood—he was conscripting them. Shibao nearly retorted but held back, recalling Kamihara’s prowess. “You jerk, we’d help our own classes—”
Another stick swing cut him off. The others, cursing the speaker’s stupidity, stayed silent. It was just labor for Class 2-1, not slavery. A first-year delinquent, unaware of Kamihara’s reputation, deserved the hit.
“Drag him out,” Kamihara ordered, pointing at the unnamed first-year. “If Class 2-1 complains about slacking, don’t blame me for getting rough.”
Silently, they hauled the first-year out. “I-I’m going too,” Hisaike said, wiping tears and standing shakily, dreading being alone with Kamihara.
A stick blocked her. “I won’t yield!” she declared.
“You think I’d touch you? Don’t gross me out,” Kamihara said, revolted. “I’ve got questions. Answer honestly, and I’ll let you go home.”
To the Special Division, not home—he had no mercy for delinquent girls. “Jerk!” Hisaike snapped, turning to the last delinquent. “Shibao-aniki, take me with you!”
Shibao opened his mouth but met Kamihara’s eerie stare. Swallowing his words, he exited, thoughtfully closing the shed door. “Alright, they’re gone,” Kamihara said, smiling at Hisaike. “Spill. How’d this happen?”
Hisaike stayed mute. “Not talking?” Kamihara hefted the stick, grinning. “Fine—”
“I’ll talk!” Hisaike, eyeing the stick, swallowed fearfully. “It started two days ago…”
As she spoke, the shed door opened. A refined-looking man entered, relieved to see Hisaike. “Found you. You’re Hisaike, right?” Glancing at Kamihara, his expression turned odd, emotions mixed. “What… are you two doing?”
(End of Chapter)
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