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

Chapter 76: Stretching Time, A Sudden Promise

Even in this world, I feel anxious during P.E. class.

The main reason is my discomfort with sports. Just like in my original world, I lack stamina and have no sport I’m good at.

Realizing I don’t have any physical cheats, I can only try to keep up with the class. I don’t want to relive the pain of my old world’s P.E.

I feel the girls’ gazes sometimes, but there’s no mocking atmosphere toward a weak guy like me. Even when I tire out during a middle-distance run, no one ridicules me.

Looking at other boys, my stamina seems average for a guy in this world. I’m not ostracized among them and can get along somewhat.

So, unlike the hellish P.E. classes of my old world, the atmosphere here feels warm to me.

However, there’s another issue I struggle with: the girls are too unguarded.

Their gym clothes, thinner than uniforms, reveal their body lines, with bras showing through.

When I see someone like Maki-san, her breasts bouncing wildly as she runs, blood rushes to my lower half.

But if I pitch a tent in my tracksuit, it’d be obvious instantly, and I’d surely be called a creepy pervert.

So I focus on myself. Still, during pre-exercise stretches with a partner, I can’t avoid touching a girl’s softness.

“Okay, boys, draw lots!”

As usual, Ms. Muranaka calls us to draw lots for stretching pairs. This system continues until summer, then we’ll pair freely in autumn.

Each time, I’ve paired with a different girl. Every time, I’m nervous, worried they’ll dislike me.

This class is full of guys handsomer than me, so pairing with me must feel like a loss.

Yet, every girl I’ve paired with hasn’t minded my touch. They all say, “Th-Thanks!” with gratitude.

Still, one wrong move could make a girl uncomfortable, so I must stay cautious.

“Alright, find your partner and stretch!”

At Ms. Muranaka’s call, we search for our matching number. I wish I could pair with Asagi-san or Maki-san, but they’ve drawn other girls.

I’ve never paired with them in joint P.E. It’s statistically expected, but I look for the girl with number 4.

Then, a girl approaches me. She shows her number 4 lot, likely having seen mine, and speaks.

“…I’m number 4.”

A familiar low voice, long curly blonde hair, taller than me—a slightly gyaru-like, stunningly stylish girl.

It’s Yayoi Kurokawa, my partner from the first joint P.E., where I accidentally dove into her breasts during dodgeball.

Though we paired once, I haven’t spoken to Kurokawa-san since, and my body tenses up.

After that accidental harassment, I’m not strong enough to stay calm. Even simple forward bends, usually manageable, become impossible.

“…Sato-kun, you okay? If you’re feeling off, let me know.”

Noticing my state, Kurokawa-san speaks from behind. But her sweet scent makes my head fuzzy.

“S-Sorry… I-I’m nervous… I-I’m wasting your time, right…?”

It’s a silly thing to say at this point, getting nervous now. But she doesn’t get annoyed and responds.

“…That’s fine. Maybe it’s because I’m touching you.”

“N-No way…! I-I’m just grateful you’re talking to me…”

Despite my pathetic self, she’s considerate, trying to ease my nerves. Though she looks gyaru-like, she doesn’t seem scary.

I thought kind gyarus were an urban legend. In my old world, they were my opposite.

But she murmurs, “…I see,” and gently pushes my back.

“…You don’t dislike talking to girls, do you?”

Her voice lacks inflection, but she engages me. Answering nervously, I say,

“N-No… I-I don’t dislike it at all… I-I’m just worried that you, or any girl, might hate touching me or having me push your back…”

My honest words, the truth, are met with her reply from behind.

“…I don’t think any girl would dislike that.”

Her tone is flat but not mocking. Most girls should dislike me, yet she shows kindness by not saying so.

After helping me stretch, Kurokawa-san sits in front of me, stretching her long, beautiful legs at a 45-degree angle.

“…”

I push her back carefully, avoiding her faint pink bra line. But I can’t find anything to say.

She doesn’t mind talking to me, yet I can’t find a proper topic.

I can’t make witty conversation with a beautiful girl like this. All I can do is stretch her slowly, side to side.

I hate myself for this, possibly wasting her kindness. Desperate, I pick a dull topic.

“K-Kurokawa-san… w-what club… are you in…?”

My trembling voice asks, and she turns to me. Her refined face startles me.

“…I’m in the handicraft club, sort of.”

For a moment, I can’t process the kanji, but I realize it’s handicrafts, a bit domestic for her image.

I can’t think of a good response. “Don’t ask then,” you might say, but continuing the conversation is too hard.

“Th-That’s cool…” I reply, searching for words, but she speaks first.

“I’ve got modeling work, so I don’t go much, but I join sometimes.”

Modeling work registers clearly. I try to expand on it.

“Y-You’re a model… th-that’s amazing…”

My words are awkward, my reaction clumsy. But she responds.

“…Thanks. It’s not that amazing. I just go when called, get photographed for online catalogs.”

She names the brand, but I don’t know it or if it’s famous.

Still, to me, it’s a glamorous job, far from my world, regardless of the company’s size.

“B-But… to me, it’s something I’d never touch… I-I respect you, being our age and doing that…”

Compared to me, drifting until nearly 30, she’s independent. I genuinely think she’s on another level.

“…I just wear the clothes. Nothing else.”

Her reply, while turned to me, is pure modesty. Modeling requires a great figure, and she must work hard.

“B-But modeling… you need to be stylish and have a good figure…”

Denying her modesty, I mention her figure—a mistake. I blurt things out when nervous.

It’s true, but a guy shouldn’t say that to her face. She stares at me.

“S-Sorry, th-that’s weird, right…?”

Her intense gaze makes me feel guilty. She’d want a cooler guy saying that, not me.

Kurokawa-san is surely meant for mature, cool men, from a different world. Me talking to her feels wrong.

“…If you’re interested.”

As I imagine this, she speaks softly.

“Next week, I have a shoot. Want to come watch?”

I don’t process it at first but slowly realize she’s inviting me.

Wondering why, she explains.

“Next Monday, after school, I have a shoot near the next station. If you want to see, I can arrange it.”

She’s a bit more talkative, but her expression remains flat, leaving me unsure if it’s a prank.

“Of course, you can check with Sasai-san and Yamamoto-san first, or all three of you can come.”

I wonder why she mentions them, then recall hearing my name came up among the girls.

Knowing I have lovers, her inviting me—a plain guy—doesn’t make sense.

Before I can ask if she’s serious, a whistle blows, and the teacher calls us to gather.

“…If you’re interested, let me know.”

Kurokawa-san stands, bows lightly, and I miss my chance to ask more as stretching ends.

After school, Asagi-san has club, so I walk home with Maki-san. As I debate mentioning P.E., she asks,

“Sato-kun, um… you were talking with Kurokawa-san during P.E… Did something happen?”

I was too distracted to notice her gaze. Of course, she’d care if her lover talked to another girl.

“Y-Yeah… actually, Kurokawa-san kind of… invited me…”

I don’t intend to hide anything, so I tell Maki-san about it. I want to tell Asagi-san too, but there’s no need to dodge now.

Planning to tell Asagi-san at lunch tomorrow, I wait for Maki-san’s reaction. When I mention the brand, she gasps, “Eh?”

“That’s a pretty famous brand! It’s a bit mature, so I’ve never bought it, but… Asagi might know it.”

She looks up the studio on her phone. There’s one near the next station, matching Kurokawa-san’s story.

This makes a prank less likely. I didn’t doubt her, but I don’t see why she’d invite me to watch.

“…But I can kind of see it. Kurokawa-san’s got an amazing figure… she’s different from me…”

Maki-san sighs. Indeed, Kurokawa-san’s a different type from Asagi-san or Maki-san, with a model-like charisma.

I don’t think Maki-san needs to sigh, but modeling must be aspirational for girls here too.

“A studio’s so out of my world, I’d honestly want to see it… though I might lose even more confidence…”

Her reaction assumes I’ll accept the invite. She shows no sign of stopping me from engaging with another girl.

“…Is it okay…? M-Me accepting Kurokawa-san’s invite…”

“Eh, o-of course…! If you want to, Sato-kun, I wouldn’t stop you… I’m kinda interested in the studio too… but I might be in the way.”

There’s no way she’d be in the way. Honestly, going to a place like a shooting studio alone scares me.

Still, I can’t imagine refusing an invitation from a girl like Kurokawa-san—that’d be absurd.

Having Maki-san and Asagi-san with me would be reassuring. But I’m just a lousy guy, selfishly saying convenient things despite having lovers.

“You’d never be in the way… w-we’re lovers, after all…”

Taking my lover to see another girl might be a messed-up idea, but Maki-san blushes, “…Uuu… th-thank you…”

I’m leaning on her kindness. I shouldn’t keep this dynamic.

The next day at lunch, I tell Asagi-san, and she latches onto the brand, supporting me.

“I haven’t bought much from that brand, but I’m super interested, and I want to go with you, Shun-kun!”

Her eyes sparkle, and she gives positive feedback about my invitation.

“Besides, if you’re interested, why would I stop you? Monday’s free from club, so I’ll let her know!”

Asagi-san heads back to class early to tell Kurokawa-san, knowing it’s hard for me to approach her in class.

It’s pathetic, but she’s right. I worry that talking to Kurokawa-san in class might bother her.

Returning to class with Maki-san and sitting down, Asagi-san turns from the seat in front.

“(Monday’s fine.)”

I can only reply, “Y-Yeah, th-thanks,” to her whispered message. She’s supporting my selfish actions fully.

Feeling guilty, afternoon classes begin. Thus, I’ve filled next Monday with an unprecedented plan.

With various plans swirling, days pass relentlessly. Wednesday and Thursday, Asagi-san had club, so I spent time with Maki-san in the literature club.

Learning writing from Shiina-senpai, playing board games brought by Asai-senpai, eating Ishikawa-senpai’s homemade cookies—it’s like a page of youth.

Spending after-school like this is a miracle, surrounded by beautiful girls.

Re-realizing how blessed I am, I play a board game. When Maki-san reaches the goal, Asai-senpai slumps on the table.

“…Shouldn’t have picked the gambling route… ugh…”

Today, Asai-senpai lost every dice-based bet, plummeting to last. Shiina-senpai, who played steadily and won, is her opposite.

“Emi always loses the same way in these games. Taking risky moves that backfire,” Shiina-senpai critiques, returning to her laptop to type.

She’s always writing something, teaching us about structuring sentences.

I’ve never asked what she writes. She’s kind, so she wouldn’t get mad, but I lack the courage.

“…Sato-kun, is something on my face?”

I was staring at Shiina-senpai unconsciously. She shouldn’t be happy about my gaze, so I feel bad.

“S-Sorry… I-I was wondering what you’re writing…”

Hiding things isn’t my style, so I ask, vaguely thinking honesty is better.

“Oh, I’m working on a script for the drama club. It’s for a friend, so I can’t show it yet.”

Asai-senpai chimes in, “Another request? You wrote one for the welcome event too, right?” I thought drama clubs wrote their own scripts, so it’s surprising.

“It’s good practice for me. I like coming up with stories,” she says, showing us past scripts from a shelf. They’re impressive, making me doubt I could ever write like that.

“If you’re interested, watching a play could be stimulating,” she says, smiling with her refined face. She’s a picturesque woman, I think.

Friday, I leave school right after classes. No plans, but since Yuki’s test should be over, I want to meet her.

She worked hard for it and might want to unwind. Maybe she’ll ask to hang out.

It’s presumptuous, and if she’s tired and wants rest, I should respect that.

Thinking this, I wait in the living room. Yukari-san greeted me but went to her room, so I’m alone.

Sitting on the sofa alone feels rare, reminding me of my old world, though my room there was less clean and had no sofa.

Soon, I hear the key turn and footsteps running down the hall.

Yuki, in her summer uniform with a white blouse, rushes to me.

“I’m home!”

Sitting in front of me, she beams and starts talking.

“Shun-nii, the test went super well! Thanks to you!”

Making a peace sign, she looks thrilled, likely confident in her results. But it’s not because of me.