By the fourth day, I'd stopped recognizing the person in the mirror.
I stood in front of the glass, gripping the bathroom sink with trembling hands. My reflection stared back, but it wasn't me. Not really.
The changes were undeniable now. My height had dropped well below 155 cm. I could barely reach the top shelf of my kitchen cabinets. My hair, once just brushing my shoulders, now cascaded down my back in glossy black strands that felt impossibly soft to the touch.
But it wasn't just the obvious things.
My face had softened, angles replaced by gentle curves. My eyes, already large, now seemed almost too wide, too expressive – like something out of a shoujo manga. My voice, when I spoke aloud, had shifted to something higher and airy. Feminine.
Even the way I moved felt different, lighter. I didn't just look smaller – I felt smaller.
The oversized hoodie I'd been wearing hung off my frame, slipping down one delicate shoulder. I looked like a kid trying on their older sibling's clothes.
And the strangest part?
I wasn't as horrified as I thought I'd be.
The initial panic had faded, replaced by something quieter. Confusing.
I traced the edges of my jaw with delicate fingers, tilting my head. There was a strange kind of peace settling into my chest.
Why wasn't I freaking out more?
The old Yuki – boy Yuki – would've been spiraling by now. But here I was, calmly accepting that I'd probably lose another few centimeters by tomorrow.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Yuki?" Sakura's voice drifted through the door, soft and hesitant. "You okay in there?"
I snapped out of my daze. "Yeah! Just… brushing my teeth."
Lame.
The door creaked open slightly, and Sakura peeked her head inside. "You've been in here for a while."
Her eyes immediately flicked to me – standing there in baggy pajamas, drowning in the fabric, hair tumbling down my back.
I caught the brief widening of her eyes before she masked it with a small smile.
"You're definitely shrinking faster than I calculated," she said, stepping into the bathroom and leaning against the wall. "At this rate, you'll probably hit the final stage by tomorrow."
I looked at her through the mirror, brushing some hair behind my ear. "Final stage?"
She nodded, tapping her tablet. "About 147 cm. But, um…" She hesitated. "It's not just height. Your body's adapting in other ways too."
I swallowed. "I know."
Neither of us said anything for a moment.
Then Sakura shifted closer, gently tugging at the sleeve of my hoodie. "We should go shopping today. You're going to need new clothes. Ones that actually fit."
I sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that."
"It'll be fun!" she chirped, too enthusiastically. "We can make a day of it! Girls' day out!"
I shot her a dry look. "You realize I'm not technically a girl, right?"
Her grin didn't waver. "Yuki, you're one good haircut away from passing as the cutest middle schooler I've ever seen. Just embrace it!"
I groaned, but a small part of me couldn't deny how her words made my chest flutter.
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Shopping with Sakura was… an experience.
By the time we reached the mall, I'd already lost count of how many times she'd grabbed my hand and dragged me from store to store.
To my horror, she'd made a beeline for the women's section.
Sakura held up a lavender blouse, pressing it against my frame. "Oh, this would look so cute on you!"
I pulled back, my face burning. "Isn't this overkill? I just need some basic clothes."
She pouted dramatically. "You're transforming, Yuki. This is a rare opportunity! We can't just throw you in some boring sweats."
I crossed my arms, sinking into my hoodie. "I like boring sweats."
Sakura grinned. "You won't after you see how adorable you are in this."
To my surprise – and slight horror – I ended up in a dressing room moments later, staring at a pile of cute clothes Sakura had dumped in my arms.
Frilly skirts, soft sweaters, fitted jeans…
I held up a delicate white dress with lace trim.
"...Why is there a dress in here?"
Sakura's voice floated in from the other side of the curtain. "Oh, that's just for fun. You don't have to try it on."
I sighed, shaking my head, but… curiosity gnawed at me.
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Twenty minutes later, I stepped out.
Sakura's eyes widened the second she saw me.
I shifted awkwardly in front of the mirror, tugging at the edges of the skirt I swore I wouldn't put on. It felt strange – the way it swished around my legs, how light the fabric was.
But when I looked at my reflection…
I didn't hate it.
Sakura's gaze softened. "Wow."
"What?" I asked, crossing my arms.
"You…" She smiled, a little shyly. "You look really good, Yuki. I wasn't expecting the dress to suit you so well."
I opened my mouth to protest, but the words caught in my throat.
Why did it suit me?
And why did I feel… okay about it?
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Later that night, back at my apartment, I stared at the dress hanging in my closet.
I wasn't sure why I bought it.
Sakura had joked that I'd probably never wear it, but something in me couldn't leave it behind.
I brushed my fingers against the fabric.
Somewhere deep down, I felt something shift – not physically, but emotionally.
I was beginning to wonder if this transformation wasn't just a magical accident.
Maybe part of me wanted this.
And that thought scared me more than anything else.