“Well, this is awkward,” Wesley said as he straddled the chair, without thinking about the nice flat crotch line that he was exposing. “While this chick’s body is nice to look at, I don’t wanna be inside it in this way; now tell me there’s a way back.”
Fujiyama rolled his eyes in exasperation at his Western housemate’s ignorance and manner. “You came to Japan to study culture, so you must know the importance of (1) respect; and (2) decorum. First, you disrespected my strict warning not to touch the family heirloom. Second, please sit up straight and close your legs!”
“Alright, alright, Mr. Straight-Pants. Now change me back, pronto!” Wesley tried to glare but not knowing his new body well, he managed only a pout. Fujiyama shook his head vigorously and replied: “I warned you about irreversible magic.”
“That’s not what you said!” squeaked Wesley in a higher pitch than he’d ever known, feeling the hair flopping around as he shook his head. “You rambled in some boring roundabout Oriental way about spirits and blah blah….”
“Please do not insult. Japanese way is indirect and subtle, but it is not inferior to Western speech. I said: ‘Many torrents here, a powerful ritual stone of yore; young spirit maidens impossible to placate if defiled by improper touch.’ So you see, you have no one to blame but yourself. Now you live with foolish consequences.” Fujiyama bowed and walked away to give the new maiden some time to adjust. In a way, he felt sorry for Wesley, for it was the clan’s fertility stone that he’d touched.
“But wait, I…who…am I? My name…is Asami? Fujiyama-san, matte kudasai! Come back, sweetie, we have a wedding to plan!”
