Pervert?
Yukieda’s face darkened as she tried to turn around.
Rush hour packed the train car like a sardines can—turning was impossible, even lifting a leg felt out of reach.
*Did I imagine it? Maybe someone’s bag brushed me.*
But she was wrong. That damn pervert was actually groping her.
Her whole body froze.
Should she call for help? Yet how could she catch him like this?
Just then, the announcement crackled: “Next stop: Nagata Station.”
Doors slid open. Passengers shuffled on and off. Seizing the chance, Yukieda glanced back—but everyone looked perfectly respectable. No suspicious faces.
Best choice: get off and wait for the next train. But she was running late. Missing this one meant definite tardiness.
*Maybe he gets off here too.*
Yukieda clung to that hope.
The train lurched forward again.
*This guy! Zeroing in on me?! Disgusting—groping a guy’s butt.*
She tried to endure it. But no. His boldness was escalating.
Fewer passengers now. Still crowded, but slightly more space.
Yukieda spun around without hesitation. A ripple of commotion spread through the cramped car.
“Hey! You stepped on my foot!”
“Sorry, someone pushed me—”
“My bad.”
“Stop shoving!”
Nothing. Yukieda lifted her gaze, scanning nearby faces.
A Suneo-like youth with headphones, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes. Unlikely.
A bespectacled otaku glued to his sideways phone, a weird smirk on his face. Gross. Also unlikely.
A numb-faced middle-aged man, wrinkles deep enough to pinch a fly. Didn’t fit either.
Deflated, Yukieda sighed. Train perverts were like this—without catching them red-handed, proof vanished.
Then she spotted another girl in the same uniform. Shizuku’s face flashed in her mind.
*I get it. Shizuku skipped school because of scum like you, you damn pervert!*
*Time to taste the righteous fist of a devoted father.*
Her plan was set.
Pretending to gaze calmly out the window, Yukieda waited. Sure enough—the pervert’s hand returned, growing bolder.
Her cheeks flushed pink, but she stayed still. Just as predicted, the hand crept higher, sliding beneath her skirt toward her soft inner thigh.
*Now!*
She clamped down hard and seized it.
The pervert yanked desperately. But he faced no ordinary girl. Even untransformed, a Magical Girl’s strength surpassed normal limits.
His hand felt locked in a steel vise—utterly trapped.
*How?! Those legs looked so soft!*
“Got you! Pervert!”
Yukieda’s shout jolted the dormant crowd awake. Phones lowered. Chatter ceased. Every eye locked on her.
Somehow, space cleared around her. The middle-aged man knelt, face pale.
“Please forgive me!”
“So it was you,” Yukieda said, disappointment sharp in her voice. The numb-faced man from before.
*Because of people like you, society judges all middle-aged men.*
“I swear it won’t happen again! Please!”
He bowed deeply, forehead pressed to the floor. One lift of his head would reveal the flushed skin he’d groped.
Murmurs rose. Camera flashes blinked—someone was already posting to X.
“Next stop: Hakutsuru Academy. Please prepare to disembark.”
Pressing charges meant jail… and her own delayed arrival. First-day tardiness wasn’t ideal, but—
He remained bowed, unmoving. Truly terrified.
Yukieda recalled a news story: a man ruined by false accusations. Every middle-aged man’s nightmare.
Guilty or not—this man carried heavy burdens.
She let out a cold snort. “Reflect properly.”
He lifted his head just in time to see the silver-haired girl step off the train, not glancing back.
Onlookers murmured, slightly disappointed. No bigger drama today.
Since the victim walked away, they dispersed too.
Relief flooded the man’s face. He scrambled up and fled—careful not to follow her path.
Whether he truly reflected? Only he knew.
—
Thankfully, no tardiness.
Morning classes ended. The classroom’s tension melted as students paired off and left. Only Yukieda remained.
Boys invited her. She declined with a gentle smile.
*Please. I remember that age. They’re just after my body.*
The cafeteria buzzed. Nearly every seat taken. Yukieda carried her tray until spotting one empty spot.
She set it down.
“Sorry, classmate, this seat is—” The boy beside her looked up from his phone. Froze.
“Unoccupied. Go ahead,” Yukieda said softly.
She ate quietly. Udon noodles today.
Soft, slippery strands in rich, savory broth.
*Truly… nothing beats udon.*
“Classmate—is that you in this video?”
He turned his phone toward her.
Yukieda looked up, gently running her pink tongue along her lip to catch a stray noodle, then glanced at the screen.
A silver-haired girl gripping a man’s wrist on a train. Faint shouts of “pervert” cut through the noise.
“Yeah. That’s me.”
She met his gaze. Didn’t expect it to spread this fast.
The boy blinked, dazed. “So cool.”
Yukieda smiled. “Where’d you see it?”
“School group chat! You must be Oriuchi Yuki—you’re famous here. I’m an admin. What’s your ID? I’ll send an invite.”
With his help, she joined the academy group.
Welcomes flooded in.
“Oriuchi?!”
“The silver-haired beauty!”
“Welcome!!”
Yukieda sent a quick greeting, scrolled up, and found the video. Over 100k views. Danmaku zipped across the screen.
She chuckled and closed her phone.
She didn’t see the top-liked comment: the man’s full personal details.
The boy fidgeted. Swallowed hard.
“Yukieda, could I…?”
“Ah! Sorry! I promised another classmate—I’ve got to run!”
Tray in hand, she vanished.
“…add you as a friend,” he finished to empty air.
“Ugh! Why didn’t I say it sooner!”
He grabbed his phone, typing fast: *“Dude. Ate lunch with Yukieda today. She talked to me.”*
*“Doge emoji… Wait, for real?”*
*“…”*
Back in class, her phone buzzed nonstop—tags, friend requests, anonymous messages.
She changed settings: *Move to Group Assistant. No notifications.*
*So exhausting.*
Worrying about her daughter. Navigating school life.
She knew what that boy wanted. A flicker of panic stirred.
Her life had changed. She was acutely aware: this body was female.
She was no longer a middle-aged man.
Yukieda hadn’t adapted yet.
She missed base training days—only Mr. Kenji and researchers who knew her truth. Minimal contact. Safe.
But here? Students didn’t understand. She kept her distance.
What if someone close discovered her past? How would they react? Her true identity must stay hidden.
*I just need to care for my daughter. Don’t overthink.*
*When the time is right, I’ll tell her everything. Then…*
*Mm.*
*We’ll see.*
First—get her daughter to school.
*Ask around.*
She scanned the room. Only one other remained: a girl in the corner.
Thick round glasses. Braided hair. Slightly plump.
Gentle. Honest. Like a panda.
Yukieda vaguely recalled her. Seemingly friendless. What was her name?
“Hello. I’m Oriuchi Yuki.”
Yukieda sat in the seat before her.
“A-ah… h-hello! I’m Mari… Saiwa Mari.”
Mari fidgeted, flustered, eyes darting away, unable to meet Yukieda’s gaze.
