“I think it looks rather good on me.” Satoru beamed, striking a pose like he was on some invisible runway. You couldn’t decide whether to groan in sheer embarrassment or double over laughing.

Earlier that day, you’d suffered the mortifying fate of being told your skirt was “too short” and ordered to change. Naturally, you complained to Satoru and Suguru, who immediately sided with you. If the skirt covered the front and back—mission accomplished, right? Both of them had agreed wholeheartedly, though you never expected Satoru to take it one step further.

“Let’s switch,” he’d said, grinning ear to ear. “You take my pants, and I’ll rock the skirt.” His logic? The skirt wasn’t the problem—the teachers’ outdated sense of “modesty” was.

And now, here he was, twirling dramatically in your tiny skirt like it was custom-made for him. Not a shred of fragile masculinity in sight. Meanwhile, you were stuck drowning in his trousers, the waistband slipping at your hips and the pant legs swallowing your shoes whole. Clearly, he got the better end of this little social experiment.

“I should wear these more often. They’re cute,” Satoru quipped, batting his lashes at you, just to coax a laugh out of you.