A Man Who Lost Confidence, to a Gentle Chastity-Reversed World

Chapter 10: Mother’s Thoughts and the Entrance Ceremony

Sweat starts trickling down my back again. But Mother doesn’t seem angry.

No matter how I look at it, Mother has noticed something, and Yukari-san knows it. Why is this vague situation happening?

“Well, when I got home, Yukari-san dashed to the entrance.”

Mother begins explaining. Yukari-san faces us but keeps her gaze down, avoiding eye contact.

According to Mother, Yukari-san said, “W-w-welcome back, Kaori-sama! Th-thank you for your hard work today! I-I’ll take your bag!” with a bright red face.

“Doesn’t that make you think something happened? So I stared into Yukari-san’s eyes, and she just collapsed on the spot.”

Yukari-san is the type who can’t hide things. She’s frozen, unable to move.

“So I told her I wouldn’t get mad no matter what happened, that it’s okay to tell me. Then, teary-eyed, she said she got too close to Shun-kun and pressed her body against you.”

It sounds like she’s fudging the truth a bit. Even in this world, that’s probably a big deal. In reality, if I did that, the other person’s parents wouldn’t stay quiet.

“But, you know, I don’t mind as long as Shun-kun’s okay with it. If you forgive her, there’s no problem. In fact, I think it’s fine if you two get closer.”

Mother says this to me, then turns to Yukari-san, who’s trembling slightly but listening while standing.

“And, Yukari-san, as she sometimes says, there’s no need to speak so formally. We’re like family, right?”

Seeing Yukari-san nod, Mother turns back to me, her gentle yet piercing gaze fixed on me.

“…Shun-kun, let me ask again. You weren’t upset about touching or being close to Yukari-san, right?”

I answer firmly.

“O-of course… being close to someone as beautiful as Yukari-san could never be bad…”

Mother looks momentarily surprised but then smiles. Yukari-san, blushing and looking down, gives off a confessional vibe. It’s incredibly embarrassing.

“Okay, it looks like everything’s fine then. Lately, Shun-kun, you don’t get angry like before—it’s like you’re a different person. You might even be more popular with the girls in your new class than before, you know?”

Mother’s expression turns serious, but I’m no hunk. Being a bit nicer won’t change much. Still, it seems I can stay with Yukari-san, which is what matters most.

Yukari-san, done with dishes, heads to her room to prepare to leave. As I decide to return to my room, Mother speaks again.

“Hey, Shun-kun, one thing I want to ask… Yukari-san said she ‘pressed her body against you,’ but… was that really all?”

I’m at a loss for how to answer when Mother’s expression turns serious.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but there’s something I want you to remember. If you want to, I’m okay with you getting close to anyone. But if you find a woman you like, I want you to treat her sincerely.”

The idea of a woman I like makes my spine stiffen.

“In this world, men who can connect with women without ulterior motives are rare. So women will probably approach you eagerly if they find someone like that.”

She adds, as if reading my mind, that Yukari-san seems shy.

“So I want you to be careful. As a mother, I don’t want to interfere with your freedom, but I don’t want you to fall for a bad girl.”

With more women and their increased assertiveness, I need to be cautious. I don’t think I’ll get romantic advances, but I can’t say that.

I nod to Mother’s words. She shares another wish.

“And while it’s great to connect with others, I’d be happy if you talked more with me and Yuki, too. It’s a selfish request, though.”

In reality, I rejected family love. Now, I have a chance to receive it. I can’t let it slip away.

I have impure feelings since they’re beautiful, but more than that, I’m starving for family love.

“O-of course… I want to get closer to both of you… I might not talk well, but… please.”

Mother pokes my forehead, saying, “You’re using formal language again… fufu, but I’m happy, you know?” with a cheerful smile.

For a moment, I feel—just a little—acknowledged. Far from self-esteem, but there are people in this house happy I’m here.

I don’t know if it’s 100% true, but I want to believe I’ve met people I can trust.

Finally, I say goodbye to Mother and return to my room. I check the uniform and bag on the hanger, imagining tomorrow’s entrance ceremony.

My real high school life is a gray blur, so I hope this will be better. Not just hoping, I resolve to talk to at least one person.

After bathing, I slip into bed. Under a comfort I’d forgotten in reality, I fall asleep.

I wake past 7 AM, bathed in sunlight. I slept well, my mind clear, though the line between this world and reality feels blurry.

I feel this world is a place I can live more energetically than reality. It’s my assumption, but I don’t have the right to decide.

Heading to the entrance ceremony, I go to the living room in pajamas. Like yesterday, Yukari-san prepares breakfast, the aroma of miso soup wafting gently. I love Japanese food, so I enjoy the scent.

We eat breakfast together, talking. Yukari-san is still a bit tense, but when Mother praises her tamagoyaki, she smiles shyly. I want to compliment her, too, but lack the courage—typical me.

I change into my uniform and leave with Mother. Yuki wanted to come, but only parents or guardians can enter the venue.

Mother took the day off and prepared a digital camera. I hate photos—or rather, seeing myself in them—but seeing her excitedly charge the camera, I can’t say anything.

For the ceremony, Mother wears a navy blue skirt dress with a white short jacket, looking more put-together than usual. She’s not just attending my ceremony but showing a prettier side, which makes me happy.

Walking to school with her, I notice more students with parents, mostly girls with occasional boys. Many are accompanied by just their mothers, like me.

Mother-daughter pairs glance at me. It’s not my ego—they’re likely sizing up the 20% of boys. I don’t know how I’m rated.

I also feel, perhaps wrongly, that these mothers and daughters are often refined-looking. Maybe the rumor about appearance in entrance criteria is true, or it’s genetics at play—beautiful mothers birthing beautiful daughters.

Shaking off pointless, crude thoughts, I walk with Mother to school. At the gate, seen two days ago, a sign reads “Prefectural North High School Entrance Ceremony,” just like in reality. Mother takes my picture in front of it.

I hate photos because I dislike my image and struggle to smile. I think my smile looks ugly to others, fact or not, so being forced to smile for photos is unbearable.

Still, I steel myself, knowing Mother wants my picture. Smiling slightly, lifting the corners of my mouth, takes great resolve.

I’m anxious if it’s okay, but Mother seems satisfied after a few shots. I wonder if she wants to be in the photo, too, but lack the courage to ask.

In the schoolyard, a board lists class assignments. My class is 2, with about 25 students, six boys by the names.

Maki-san, whom I met two days ago, is in my class. Mother said her surname is Yamamoto, so I should call her by it if we talk.

I have no memories, but having a girl who knows me in class is a relief. I don’t want to be unable to talk to anyone, like in reality, so I pin some hope on her.

Reception is for parents and students, but entry is separate. Mother sits at the back of the venue, while I, a freshman, line up by roster in the hallway before entering.

Mother says, “Don’t be nervous, get along with others, okay?” I’m fairly tense, and getting along is a challenge. I barely know communication basics.

In the hallway to the gym, a female teacher directs us to line up. The roster is mixed gender, as I suspected from the board. Sandwiched between girls, I feel maximally uncomfortable.

The girls smell nice, but I’m suffocating. Ordered to wait, I glance around nervously when the girl in front turns and speaks.

“…Hey, isn’t this hallway a bit chilly?”

It’s a classmate in uniform, her long hair in pigtails, slightly brown. Her big, bright eyes suggest she’ll be the class’s center, friendly and approachable.

“I thought it’d be colder today… maybe I should’ve worn something thicker.”

She looks at me, but I freeze.

Talking one-on-one with a girl is rare, even in this world or reality. She’s probably curious because I’m one of the few boys.

I manage to squeeze out words.

“Y-yeah, maybe… I might be a bit cold, too…”

Honestly, it’s a lie. I’m so nervous and anxious I feel feverish.

“Fufu, you don’t need to be so formal. We’re classmates, you know.”

She laughs a bit, but it doesn’t feel malicious.

“I’m Asagi Sasai. You’re… Shun Sato, right?”

She remembers my name, likely because I’m a boy in the class.

“…Yeah, nice to meet you…”

I can’t meet her eyes but manage to reply and bow. She returns the greeting with a smile. It seems I didn’t mess up the conversation.

My name is Shun Sato. In this world, I live with this name. Confirming this in my mind, I follow the teacher’s lead with Class 2 into the gym.

The ceremony itself isn’t much different from reality. Most of the principal, teachers, and the student council president who spoke are women.

Our Class 2 homeroom teacher, introduced as a woman who looks in her early 30s from afar, will meet us in homeroom later.

No incidents occur, and the ceremony ends smoothly. The 146 freshmen stand by class and exit the gym. In my real-world memory, my prefectural high school had about 350 per grade, so this must reflect a declining birthrate.

Parents, including Mother, gather in a separate room for a briefing from the academic director. Meanwhile, we have our first homeroom.

Led by a teacher, we enter Class 2’s classroom. For a prefectural school, the desks and lockers are solid, and it uses a whiteboard instead of a blackboard.

Checking the seating chart on the board, I sit and wait for the teacher. Some classmates are already bonding, while others, like me, look around nervously.

I used to hope for new friendships at class changes, but realizing it was impossible, I saw them as random shuffles.

This time, it’s truly a fresh start. I think I should take action, but I don’t know how.

Asagi-san is in front of me, and Yamamoto-san, looking around, is at a distant seat. I consider talking to them but lack the courage. Before I can act, the classroom door opens, and the teacher enters.

“Hey, everyone, take your seats, okay?”

With that cliché line, the woman walks to the teacher’s desk.