The Weight of a Bra and the Sting of Growing Pains
I let out a small groan as another day began, just like any other. While changing out of my pajamas, I noticed Alraune sitting on the bed, staring at me like she had something to say. I tilted my head in confusion.
She hesitated for a moment before asking in that blunt way of hers, “Are you okay now?”
“Okay? What do you mean?”
[Well…] She trailed off, then pointed toward the nearby mirror.
I followed her gesture without thinking and caught my reflection—bent slightly forward, fastening my bra. My mouth snapped shut. In that instant, I understood exactly what she meant by “okay now.”
After putting it on and taking it off every single day, touching and adjusting it constantly, I had somehow grown used to it. Whether I’d adapted to real women’s underwear or simply become numb to it, I wasn’t sure. Two weeks—not too long, not too short—had passed since the days when I would roll around on the bed in discomfort, clutching my head and spiraling through a storm of emotions and thoughts. Realizing I no longer felt any of that, I could only move my lips wordlessly.
“…Doing this every day is a chore in itself,” I muttered.
The mix of emotions that came with that realization felt exhausting every single time. It was far better to just get used to it quickly, I told myself, brushing the whole thing aside.
Alraune nodded as if that made perfect sense. As payback for making me aware of something I would rather not have noticed, I decided she wouldn’t be getting any dessert after breakfast this morning.
[Whyyy! I was just asking!]
“There are a lot of things in this world that become rude the moment you ask them.”
She rolled around on the bed in protest, but I kept a straight face and finished dressing. After making sure nothing was out of place, I left the room.
“Oh, René. You’re up already?”
“Yeah… I guess so.”
For some reason, René had woken up earlier than usual today. As we exchanged greetings, she noticed Alraune puffing her cheeks in complaint and tilted her head.
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing at all.”
I told her not to worry about it and headed toward the dining room for breakfast. On the way, I spotted the black bra strap peeking out from under René’s shoulder and reached over to fix it for her. I also quietly advised her that she should wear lighter-colored underwear with white clothes, since dark ones tended to show through. Her face flushed bright red with embarrassment, but she nodded obediently.
“Looks like you’ve gotten used to it already, René. I still find it a little uncomfortable…”
“Ahh…”
After that conversation, I somehow made it through breakfast, then buried my face in my pillow and thought about far too many things before finally dragging myself up to go study.
While Arlan received his harsh training as the next family head from Father, and while Arlan’s screams echoed across the training grounds, the peaceful spring days flowed by without any particular incidents. The fruit trees we had planted in the garden last year finally burst into bloom.
“The scent is really nice…”
“Yeah. It smells kind of like fruit.”
The trees that had safely survived winter and were growing vigorously in the spring had flowered, promising a good harvest this year. We took even better care of them than before.
“Huh? Why are the flowers falling off already…?”
“The ones over there are only just starting to bloom.”
The flowers, which had been incredibly popular with the bees thanks to their sweet fragrance, began dropping soon after they opened. Worried that we might have done something wrong, we were relieved when Alraune told us it was completely normal. Since these trees bore fruit faster than others, their flowers naturally fell sooner. We learned something new and, as thanks, gave Alraune some cookies.
“By the way…”
[Yeah?]
“Is it okay for you to eat cookies that have dried fruit in them?”
René asked whether it was really fine for a plant spirit to eat something made mostly from things that grew in the ground. Alraune blinked a few times, then pretended she hadn’t heard anything and changed the subject.
“Spirits probably have their own rules about that sort of thing.”
I took her side and signaled that we should avoid asking awkward questions. René readily agreed and went back to nibbling on her cookie.
“Thank you for coming all this way.”
“Not at all. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”
Soon after, Baron Shelton and his daughter visited the mansion to discuss the marriage. The moment it truly sank in that Arlan was actually getting married, René and I discreetly stepped away when the young lady and Arlan began walking through the garden together.
“Um… Does my presence make you uncomfortable?”
When she visited again, Lady Shelton approached us first, apparently worried that our consideration had been a sign of discomfort. At the time, we were wearing sturdy but rather dirty clothes after tending to the fruit trees. The contrast with her neat and tidy appearance made us glance at each other.
After exchanging a silent conversation with our eyes, we both shook our heads. We explained that we had simply meant to be considerate and that we were very happy to welcome her.
“Ah, I see… I misunderstood.”
“We’re sorry for making you think that.”
“Hehe, no, it’s my fault for saying something so awkward. I’m sorry.”
Even though we were much younger, she never forgot to speak to us politely. Smiling warmly, she took our hands without caring that they were dirty and asked us to continue looking after her in the future.
Now certain that she was a genuinely good person, we didn’t hesitate to nod. To help her get closer to our family faster, we brought out the same skill we had once used to change Arlan and Aran’s personalities when they were little.
“From now on, please feel free to speak more casually.”
“Ah, yes. Mother.”
And so, the kind-hearted young lady blended nicely into our household. Not long after, René and I experienced true growing pains on the same day—pains that made the aches we had felt in our arms, legs, and chests until then seem like nothing more than a taste. The discomfort was so bad it kept us up at night.
“Ugh…”
[…René.]
“…I’m fine, so please look after René.”
During the day we were fine, but at night the growing pains would hit, leaving both of us groaning in discomfort. Thanks to that, Alraune and everyone else in the mansion took extra care of us. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much anyone could do for growing pains, so we endured it by taking naps during the day to make up for the sleep we lost at night.
“René… You didn’t sleep properly again today, did you?”
“Yeah… How about you? Are you okay?”
“No. My lower back hurts so much.”
“That’s not your lower back, that’s your pelvis…”
“Both my back and my pelvis hurt.”
After another uncomfortable night, we greeted the morning with tired faces. Even while exchanging sleepy greetings, we could feel our bodies growing day by day. In addition, we began receiving more lessons about what it meant to be a woman.
“Soon, the young ladies will experience this as well…”
The class avoided direct expressions and was far less informative than the sex education I had received back in elementary school in my previous life. Still, it made it clear that the day when we would truly become women—beyond simply wearing women’s underwear—was not far off. It helped us prepare in various ways for when that time came.
“Lady René. Young Master Arlan has just finished training and returned to his room…”
“Yes, I know.”
“Then… I assume you have some business with me?”
I had no intention of becoming a real woman so obediently. Wanting to preserve what little masculinity I had left, I spent several days thinking about what I could do. Eventually, I went to the training grounds alone.
There, I found the old knight who always looked after René and me more than the other knights and bluntly asked him to teach me swordsmanship.
“Swordsmanship… you say?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The old knight tilted his head and asked again. When he realized I hadn’t misspoken and was completely serious, his face filled with trouble. No matter how much I asked, he gently refused, saying he could not easily teach something as dangerous as swordsmanship to a young lady.
“If you wish to achieve something, perhaps you should consider a different path than the sword…”
“I want to learn swordsmanship.”
I followed him around persistently, repeating that I wanted to learn the sword and nothing else. Eventually, the old knight seemed to realize this wasn’t going to stop. Under the shade of a tree, he asked me why I wanted it so badly.
I couldn’t possibly tell him it was to protect my fading masculinity, so after a long pause I gave a suitable excuse: that I had come to admire Arlan and Aran while watching them train.
“Admiration, huh…”
Apparently that reason had struck a chord. The knight stroked his beard thoughtfully, then looked at me with the same serious eyes he used when speaking to Arlan and Aran.
“Wielding a sword with a woman’s body is not an easy task.”
Even basic physical training would be difficult, and swinging a sword would mean my currently pale and delicate hands could no longer stay that way. When I nodded without hesitation, saying I already knew that, he pondered for a while longer before letting out a long sigh.
“The young masters should have been the ones learning like this…”
He expressed regret that they were only learning because they were told to, rather than because they truly wanted to. In the end, he raised the white flag and agreed to teach me.
“Swordsmanship? Absolutely not!”
“M-Mother…”
When I later brought it up to my parents for permission, Mother strongly opposed it while Father looked reluctant, though less intensely. After somehow managing to persuade them, I was allowed to learn under several conditions. A same-sex attendant had to be present during training. I was never to overdo it. And among all the conditions, the one Mother emphasized most was that I must not learn anything beyond basic etiquette and self-defense techniques. As a result, I could only learn the art of the slender sword—commonly known as the rapier.
“How is this even supposed to…?”
I grumbled at first, but after picking up one of the training wooden swords with its iron core inside, I quickly understood reality and accepted it. The important thing wasn’t the size of the sword, but the swordsmanship itself. My resolve to preserve what remained of my masculinity, which I had steeled so firmly, shook like a rickety bridge in a gale the moment I started physical training that day.
“My lady. At that level, you won’t build any proper strength.”
“Th-This is my limit…”
“No. I know you can do much more than this, my lady.”
“I think you’re confusing me with someone else…”
Despite my whining, the knight didn’t budge an inch. Somehow I managed to finish that day’s training. I felt a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction—until the next day, when muscle pain arrived alongside the growing pains and I screamed at the top of my lungs.