Waking the Slacker Hero
The long war that had seemed utterly endless had finally ground to a halt. In tandem, the seasons were shifting bit by bit. Just a few days ago, winter's chill had gripped everything, but lately, the weather was warming up. They were crossing from winter's tail end into spring's first stirrings. But true spring hadn't arrived yet. A sharp, lingering cold still hung in the air. And the same went for our home. A brutal, frigid tension permeated the house—like a bomb teetering on the edge of detonation. To be honest, I couldn't take it anymore. Even I had my limits.
I climbed the stairs to the second-floor bedroom and knocked on the firmly shut wooden door.
*Knock knock*
No response, as expected. She was probably still asleep, just like always. I flung the door open and stormed in, striding straight to the bed in the corner. A bulky mound of blankets protruded from the mattress—someone buried head to toe. I yanked the covers away with force and bellowed,
“Get up alreadyyy!”
“Wha?! Uh, yeah?”
I roused the little girl who'd been huddled under the blankets. Still groggy, she bolted upright in confusion.
“The sun's high in the sky! Why are you still lazing in bed?!”
The girl stared blankly at me, her eyes hazy in that just-woken way. She blinked vacantly for a moment before responding slowly to my question.
“...Why am I sleeping in? 'Cause I went to bed late last night?”
“What the hell were you even doing?”
“W-Well, you see...”
Her trailing off looked suspicious. I glanced around. An empty liquor glass lay tumbled on the floor, a half-eaten chunk of cheese beside it. No wonder the cheese from the kitchen had vanished—she'd snuck it up here on the sly.
“...You had a drink, huh?”
“Uh, y-yeah.”
“Stayed up all night boozing instead of sleeping?”
The girl clamped her mouth shut. She couldn't meet my eyes, gaze dropping to the floor. This little girl was the culprit behind our home's tense, icy vibe. After the war with the Demon King's forces ended, she'd returned to the village like this. Boozing through the night, refusing to lift a finger. Her name was Noel. She might look like this now, but she was a former hero in her own right. Truth be told, she wasn't even a girl originally—just the neighborhood guy. My childhood friend. I'd been shocked at first. The friend who'd run off to become a hero came back as a girl? But I'd gotten used to it. And honestly? I kinda liked it.
For starters, she was cute. One of the cutest in the village—no, the whole region. Long pink hair cascading to her waist, a bit shorter and slimmer than girls her age. She was like a little sister who'd appeared out of nowhere. Adorable. But her looks didn't match her insides. No cuteness whatsoever in her personality. She acted like some grizzled old uncle. Part of me wanted to kick her out right then, but I couldn't. She had nowhere else to go but here.
I grabbed Noel's shoulders and hauled her out of bed, plopping her into a chair. I snatched the comb tossed haphazardly on the table and started taming her overnight-tangled hair. The soft, flowing strands brushed against my fingertips.
“I told you to get up early. We've got so much to do in the morning.”
“Yeah...”
“Why are you like this? You're a hero, aren't you? Can't you act a little more heroically for once?”
“Uh-huh...”
“...”
Something felt off about Noel's responses. Like she was just mumbling half-assed replies. I looked at her face. Eyes closed, head nodding off to sleep. I pinched her cheeks and stretched them out.
“Ow ow ow!!”
“You messing with me right now?!”
“Let go! Let gooo!”
“Listen to me properly!”
“Fine, fine! I'll get up early!”
I released her cheeks. Noel rubbed her reddened face.
“Should've said that from the start.”
“Ugh...”
“From now on, get up early. At least tidy up the shop or something.”
“I'll try.”
“It's not about trying... whatever.”
By the time our talk wrapped up, her hair was sorted. Next came changing clothes. I started peeling off her pajamas. As my hand reached for the top...
*Smack*
Noel swatted my hand away.
“I-I can do it myself!”
“Huh? What's with the sudden attitude?”
“I can handle this much.”
Noel stared at me with a flustered expression, blurting excuses.
“...Ah.”
I'd almost crossed a line. With her looking like a girl, these slip-ups happened without thinking. Gotta keep proper distance. She was only a girl on the outside. Mess up the boundaries, and things could get awkward. It was like caring for a super-shy pubescent little sister. Had to be considerate about everything.
“I'll do it myself. So get out.”
Noel shoved my back, pushing me out the door. I found myself booted from the room. The door slammed shut right in my face. Staring at the sealed wood, I muttered,
“...You don't have to be that embarrassed.”
I shoved Yuria out the door. With my shrunken body now, it took real effort. I slammed the door shut and looked down at myself. My meager chest came into view first. A child's small breasts formed faint curves under the soft pajamas. I steadied my mind and began undressing. A vague sense of immorality and shame washed over me. My face might've flushed a bit. This body still felt unfamiliar. Like someone else's, yet undeniably mine. I stripped fully. My small, pale frame stared back. Squeezing my eyes shut, I changed quickly. I pulled clothes from the wardrobe, slipping them on one by one. Buttoned the top, wrapped on the skirt. Every outfit in this house that fit me was bought by Yuria. Meaning Yuria's taste through and through.
I remembered her at the village tailor, gleefully picking out stacks of clothes for me. I'd wanted easy-to-move-in stuff, but she ignored that and bought what she liked. So most of my wardrobe was frilly, pretty things that swished around.
Dressed, I opened the door. Yuria gazed down at me silently.
“...”
“...What?”
“N-No, nothing. Just.”
Yuria brushed it off vaguely. I shot her a dissatisfied glare. She finally spoke, reluctant.
“It suits you. That outfit.”
She said something that didn't even make me happy. I wasn't some village girl. Compliments like that didn't cheer me up. I whipped my head away from her and hurried off. Down the stairs to the first floor. Yuria ran the potion shop here. The only one in the village selling potions. Business was pretty good. Sometimes so busy she barely caught her breath.
I asked Yuria, who'd followed me down.
“So? What do I gotta do today?”
“Uh... nothing special? Looks like a slow day, no customers.”
“Then I could've slept in... Ow!”
Yuria flicked my forehead hard. A stinging pain bloomed.
“How many times have I told you to get up early? No more all-night drinking and sleeping in.”
I glared at her with resentment. She ignored it.
“Even if there's nothing, you gotta watch the shop. Someone might need a potion in a hurry.”
Fair point. As a freeloader, I had no grounds to argue. Had to obey. I perched on the counter stool.
“Yeah, yeah. If only you listened like this every day.”
Yuria sat beside me. Two of us squeezed side-by-side on the narrow counter. She pulled potion ingredients and tools from a drawer, prepping them with practiced hands. I just stared blankly at her. A peaceful late-morning scene. A boring, sleepy daily routine. Something utterly impossible back when I was warring with the Demon King's army. An unstoppable yawn escaped me.
“That sleepy?”
“Yeah...”
To shake off the drowsiness, I asked Yuria,
“Whatcha making?”
“Recovery potions. The strong kind.”
I watched her busy hands. A thought bubbled up.
“Want me to help? With the potion-making?”
...Crap. Foot in mouth. That was the one thing I should never say around Yuria. She glared daggers. Through gritted teeth, suppressing fury, she said,
“...Absolutely not. No matter what.”
Her anger overwhelmed me. Only option: apologize quick.
“S-Sorry.”
Yuria turned back to her work. Her grip on the tools looked tighter, crushing the ingredients with force. They powdered gradually. She focused hard for a while before speaking up.
“Um... Noel.”
“Yeah?”
“It's not that I don't trust you. I just...”
“No need to say it. I get it.”
I knew what she wanted to say. She had every reason to be on edge around me. For her sake, she was hypersensitive. That much I could say for sure. Because recovery potions were highly addictive. Addictive enough to call them drugs.