Crossdresser, Shocking Kyoto

"Just a little... a bit more to the left, yes, that bone... Aagh!"

In a private room at a hidden yakiniku restaurant somewhere in Kyoto, Mizuki Makoto let out a scream loud enough to make passersby call the police. Miwa Kasumi, drenched in sweat, pressed down on his lower back with an expression that was both conflicted and professional—after all, this concerned her doubled "massage compensation fee."

The fat from the Kobe beef sizzled on the grill, and its rich aroma restored a little color to Mizuki's face, pale from his back injury.

"Makoto, that move of yours was seriously Fever!"

A bold voice loud enough to blow the roof off exploded through the private room. Supporting his waist, Mizuki Makoto turned around and saw a broad-shouldered man with wild purple hair, built like a brown bear, casually taking a seat beside him. Nestled in the man's arms was the exquisitely dressed, seductive Kirara Hoshi.

—Hakari Kinji.

This second-year senior from Tokyo Jujutsu High had been sent to Kyoto as support during the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons not long ago. Because of his technique, he had always had a terrible relationship with Kyoto's conservatives. Mizuki Makoto: So that blindfolded bastard sent him to Kyoto on purpose, didn't he? He had even staged a real brawl at headquarters, beating several conservatives so badly that they were still on oxygen.

"Hakari-senpai, shouldn't you be in Tokyo writing a self-criticism?" Mizuki Makoto weakly adjusted his glasses. "Or has Jujutsu Headquarters become generous enough to forgive you for knocking out their dentures?"

Before he could finish, Mizuki Makoto suddenly realized something. Watching Hakari Kinji skillfully stuff beef into his mouth, his eye twitched as he shouted:

"Wait! Are you a damn dog? How did you find this place?! I didn't even send anything on Line, much less my location!"

"Don't sweat the little details. We're all Fever comrades!"

Hakari Kinji burst into wild laughter and slammed a hand heavily onto the table. His intensely imposing face leaned close to Mizuki, his eyes gleaming with a gambler's reckless drive. "Makoto, I saw the photos of you crippling Naoya in the group chat! That spirit of ignoring the rules and grinding those old men's faces into the dirt—it's practically tailor-made for my business!"

Got it. That bastard Panda definitely sold me for a good price!

"Hakari, I have a very serious question."

Mizuki Makoto put down the Kobe beef Zenin Mai had mixed with egg yolk for him. Supporting his aching lower back, he looked more solemn than ever.

The private room was filled with Hakari Kinji's frenzied aura of I'm the best in the world, and rules are bullshit. Even the chandelier on the ceiling seemed to tremble slightly.

"Your business—I can more or less guess what it is. So, about you dropping out to run a casino... did that blindfolded bastard approve it?"

Hakari Kinji's hand, which had been about to boldly chug alcohol, froze in midair. His eyes, overflowing with Fever, began darting around, and his wild laughter abruptly turned into an awkward cough.

"...More or less. Maybe. I guess he tacitly approved?" Hakari Kinji muttered, turning to Kirara. "Kirara, when I sent in my withdrawal application, did Gojo-sensei reply with an 'OK' sticker?"

"Kin-chan, Gojo-sensei replied, '(^▽^) I'm going to buy you a graveyard,'" Kirara said with a smile, mercilessly shattering his fantasy.

"That really is that blindfolded bastard's style."

"Gojo-sensei hasn't flown over here yet because he's busy cleaning up after me. If he works his ass off and then finds out the student he saved is running an illegal casino with another dropout... use your brain, Hakari. Do you think that blindfolded bastard will get angry enough to sleep one hour less every day just so he can drag the three of us back and hang us from the training ground like spinning tops to whip?"

The room instantly fell into a shared psychological shadow over "the strongest."

Ignoring the pain in his back, Mizuki Makoto rolled his eyes and looked toward Kirara, who sat beside them gracefully turning the beef short ribs on the grill. At the moment, "she" had fluffy pink curls, exquisite eye makeup, and a sweetly sultry air somewhere between a young girl and an elegant older woman whenever she smiled. No matter how one looked at her, she was a beautiful girl who would be stopped by talent scouts on the streets of Harajuku.

"Um... Kirara-senpai."

Miwa Kasumi, seated beside him, finally could not hold it in any longer. She stopped massaging Mizuki Makoto's waist, blushed as she twisted her fingers together, and spoke in a voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz. "It's rude to ask this the first time we meet, but you're really beautiful, senpai... How do you keep your skin so radiant? The wind in Kyoto is so strong, and my skin always feels dry..."

Zenin Mai said nothing, but she set down her sake cup as well. Her eyes, normally filled with indifference and arrogance, now circled Kirara with a subtle scrutiny and curiosity shared "between women."

"Oh my, Miwa-chan is so cute." Kirara let out a sweet laugh, her voice crisp and pleasant. "The secret is simple. Just keep yourself in a Fever mood every day, and then..."

"—And remember to shave every morning."

Mizuki Makoto interrupted Kirara's beauty tips expressionlessly. He casually grabbed a lettuce leaf and stuffed it into his mouth, adding through a muffled voice, "Miwa-chan, Mai-chan, I know this challenges the meager common sense of you conservative Kyoto people, but I need to remind you—this is the genuine article, Kirara-senpai."

"Huh?!!"

Miwa Kasumi's hand slipped, and the force pressing against his waist suddenly increased. The pain nearly killed Mizuki Makoto on the spot. Her already large eyes widened as she stared fixedly at Kirara's shapely curves, her entire body frozen as though she had been hit by a binding spell.

Zenin Mai fared even worse. The mouthful of sake she had just swallowed sprayed onto the grill with a pfft, kicking up a burst of pungent white smoke. She did not even bother wiping the alcohol from the corner of her mouth. The finger she pointed at Kirara with trembled slightly. "A man? This fashion sense, this voice... You're telling me he's a man?!"

"That's right, one hundred percent genuine." Rather than getting angry, Kirara winked playfully at Mai. She even deliberately tugged her collar down a little, showing off the curve of an entirely nonexistent Adam's apple. "What's this, Mai-chan? Have you been captured?"

At that moment, the atmosphere in the private room sank into an incredibly strange silence.

The bad topics from before—skipping class, dropping out, brawling, and the like—now seemed utterly insignificant before the "shock to their understanding of gender." Miwa Kasumi had begun questioning her life, while Mai had fallen into deep self-doubt. She started wondering what kind of unbearable mental pollution Maki, who had spent half a year at Tokyo Jujutsu High, had been exposed to every day—and whether she could still be considered normal.

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