I looked around to confirm that, yes, I was in my room. The pink walls and ceiling were oddly comforting, mainly because I had been quite cross at all of the pink for the past six weeks. Or is it technically the next six weeks? No matter, it didn't matter in the end.
The very annoying thing was that while I retained almost perfect memories (as perfect as anyone would remember the six weirdest weeks of their life), but muscle memory didn't transfer over. So as I was trying to dress myself, my body still felt that same feeling of new clothing that I had on my first day as a girl last time. And despite the fact I knew very well how to put on a bra, my body didn't, so I flailed around for a good five minutes before getting it on, which was infinitely better than my failed attempts on the last first day.
Then a thought struck me. I remembered that the last time I did this, I didn't wear a bra. While over the six week time period I wore one just to avoid awkwardness. But how would my day be effected by me deciding to wear a bra? Obviously I would act a bit differently, given the whole lot of knowledge I had now.
A sinking feeling hit me, and I began to feel a slight bit sick. It was the same feeling I had when I was forced into an important choice previously. And forgive me if I am a bit skeptic, but I don't think that the choice of whether to wear a bra on not was truly that important. I mean, nothing bad happened last time when I didn't wear one, so why should I bother?
I took it off, shaking away the niggling feeling inside of me telling me that it was a horrendous idea. The odd thing was, it took me a minute to get it off. That made less sense than the trouble I had putting it on, for it was difficult to get on and hard to figure out when putting it on, but taking one off may be hard to figure out, but it was cake to take it off when you knew how. And I did know how, but for some reason, the way just kept escaping me, hovering on the edge of my memory but flittering away whenever my thoughts touched it.
Nevertheless, I got it off with time to spare. Getting changed was, of course, much easier. Since I was already shirtless from my experience with the bra, I took off my pajama pants. This left me in nothing but my panties, and this got me feeling... different.
Spending six weeks in a female body meant that I got used to quite a few things. One of them was being able to look at yourself naked and not a feel a thing. Not the case today, as my cheeks grew a very nice tomato red and embarrassment filled my entire body. Embarrassment then turned into puzzlement and confusion, as I wondered why I was feeling this way. It didn't make any sense! Why would I be acting like this if-
I gave myself a not mental and very physical slap to clear my head.
This was exactly what Michiko was talking about. I needed to stop questioning everything that happened and just accept that things were as they were. So I was feeling a bit awkward and I blushed a bit when looking a girl's body (a rather attractive body if I do say so). There wasn't anything wrong with the situation! Instead, I focused on solving the problem i.e. putting on the skirt.
It only took me a few moments longer than it normally would, but that was just because I felt a little rusty and fumbled some with my hands.
Unfortunately, along with all of my muscle memory, all of the feelings I had experienced as a girl felt as foreign as when I first experienced them. This meant that goosebumps arose on my skin when I moved due to the current of air prevalent between my legs. It was one of the many hazards suffered previously, and also something I had to become used to very very quickly.
With my mind on hazards, skirts, and my first day, it was inevitable that my train of thought stopped at Introduction-Incident station, and Kenta was there waiting for me. My cheeks that had recently recovered from my glances at my body where once again plagued by a noticeable blush.
'Did I have to go through that again?' I asked myself. I didn't think that it was important that everything be an exact duplicate, and besides, the adventure of finding out what could happen would be lost if I kept everything the exact same way. So I resolved to avoid such a disaster when it will arise. As long as I remembered nothing could go wrong right?
Anyway, I had to go downstairs at some point, so I figured that now was as good as any time.
I carefully made my way down the stairs, careful not to trip down the stairs (this was helped by the short, pleated skirt, which as clothing goes, is an incredibly difficult object to trip on) and I was successful!
When I got down, I met someone I wasn't really ready for, my mother. Not my real one obviously, she is this body's mother, and I really didn't know anything about her. I saw her before I went to school occasionally, but not when I got home. I hadn't bothered waiting for her to get home, since in all honestly, I didn't particularly care. Maybe I would stay up one night and see when she came home? I put it on my nonexistent list of things to do for future reference. The tall women with light brown hair walked up to me just as I got down the stairs.
"Musume, there you are. I was afraid that you had decided to sleep in. I'm just about to head out now, but before I go..." She stopped talking and leaned in very very very uncomfortably close to my breasts, just like last time. Unlike last time, she didn't lift up my shirt, and did something else with her hands. Her right hand gently cupped my left breast, and I reacted in the stereotypical manner that any girl would be proud of. I jumped out of my skin (metaphorical), backed away (literal), and let out what I must admit was quite a shrill screech.
"Why did you do that!" I managed to say before she could ask any invasive questions. She looked at my now blushing face oddly and responded.
"While I don't disprove of your choice of fashion, if you dress like this, I don't think you're allowed to blush like that." She said with a tone of caution, instruction and the tiniest bit of respect. This, of course, did not matter to me because I quite frankly had no idea what she was talking about. If she knew this, she didn't mention it, and instead told me that she would be heading to work.
Once she was out of the door, I took a few moments to catch my breath, in a vain attempt to rid myself of the vivacious blush on my cheeks. It didn't work, which wasn't a shock.
After deciding that I needed to move on quickly or I might be late for school, I grabbed my stuff and left the house. Then I uncomfortably reminded of the road in front of me. Last time, I had barely grown used to its length by the end of the six weeks, and I sincerely doubted that my body would be already acclimated as a carry over. I glanced over to the very prestigious and clean school.
I began my trek up the hill, not with the goal of getting to school, but with the goal of meeting a certain girl. I stopped in my tracks, and turned around, remembering that I had to wait for her to catch up. I saw her a ways down the hill, and I called out to her.
"Hey!" I waved down at her. Akane saw this and picked up her pace in order to get closer. Now I truly saw an example of her long legs, as her stride grew when she took longer steps. Her skirt also was a bit flightier than normal, which was unmistakably a good thing.
When she finally got up to my level, I was once again greeted with one of her dazzling smiles. It made me feel a bit nostalgic on the inside, and a grin grew on my face as well.
"Good to finally see someone from my school." Akane said with plenty of breath. I guess that she is more athletic than me.
"Yeah, whats your name?" I asked, cutting right to the chase on a question I already knew the answer to.
"Shouldn't you give your name before asking for someone's?" she looked at me skeptically while she said this. I became nervous, afraid of already having screwed up.
"Michio- no, Michiko. Michiko Fuuji." I corrected myself, thinking that it will just make my life easier in the end.
"Oh, Michiko, thats a beautiful name." She gave me a dazzling smile again, showing that she was only joking earlier. "May I call you Michiko-chan? If so then you can call me Akane-chan." The smile on my face was completely nostalgic, with a hint of melancholy.
"Of course, Akane-chan."