Summary : Miura Ito was the last one to find out about her best friend's true identity. The first was her brother, Miura Ryuuya. Possible slash further on, no pairings yet. I might make a poll or something. Will follow original storyline as much as possible.
Disclaimer : I do not own W-Juliet or its characters.
"Nee-chan! Phone!" came Tatsuyoshi's voice from the living room.
Ito, who had been running back through the hallway to her room, skidded to a halt. "Tell them I'll be right there!" she yelled back. "I just have to bring a towel to Makoto!"
Said towel suddenly left her hands. Startled, she looked up into her eldest brother's brown eyes.
"Ah, I'll do it. You go get the phone," said Ryuuya.
"Thanks, nii-chan!" Ito turned to go, but abruptly faced him again. "You better not peek at her changing," she said sternly, pointing an imperious finger at him. "Especially since it's your fault that she got wet in the first place!"
Ryuuya choked. "As if I would!" he exclaimed, scowling. "What do you take me for, some kind of pervert?"
His younger sister squinted at him doubtfully. With a final "No peeking!", she turned and jogged away.
Ryuuya sweatdropped. His own sister thought he was a lecher. He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair and sighed, striding toward Ito's bedroom. Really, there was no denying that Amano Makoto was a strikingly beautiful girl, what with her silky-looking blonde hair, delicate facial features and a tall, slender frame. But she was his little sister's friend, and looking at her that way just seemed... wrong.
"Makoto-san?" he called, knocking on Ito's door. "I have a towel for you! Don't worry," he added, rolling his eyes, "I won't look while the door's open."
There was a slight pause. "Just a second!" came the muffled response.
Ryuuya leaned on the doorjamb, prepared to look away. There were a couple of light footsteps, and then the doorknob turned. As promised, he faced the opposite wall, holding the towel nonchalantly to the side. The door creaked open, sunlight filtering through to project part of Makoto's shadow on the wall. Her head and torso were silhouetted, though she seemed to have her left arm lifted to chest-level, presumably holding something to cover herself just in case.
A slender hand plucked the towel from his upturned palm. "Thank you, Ryuuya-san," said Makoto. "Might I ask where Ito-san went?"
"She's on the phone. One of her friends called, I guess."
"I see. Well, thank you," Makoto repeated, starting to pull back into the room.
"You're welco-" Ryuuya stopped mid-word, staring wide-eyed at the shadow on the wall.
Until then, Makoto had been facing forward, only the contours of her head, shoulders and waist being visibly outlined by the sun. But as she turned to close the door, she had transferred the towel to her left arm, pulling it away from her body in the process. Which meant that, for a moment, her profile was clearly projected on the wall.
And Ryuuya had a clear view of a distinct lack of female curves along her torso.
"Ryuuya-san? Is something wrong?" Her arm was back against her chest in the next second.
Thoughts whirling, he could only stammer, "Uh-uh, no, every... everything's fine. You're welcome." He gestured vaguely. "For the towel."
Silence. He could just feel her doubtful eyes on him, scrutinizing him for the cause of his sudden nervousness. He scratched the back of his head, stiffly stepping away from the doorjamb. "I'll just go now," he muttered, cheeks burning for some reason.
He started to head back to his room, hearing the door click shut behind him. He took three more dazed steps before pausing. His mind kept playing back the memory of what he had seen, which wasn't much but enough make him uncertain. Should he check?
He violently shook his head, berating himself. If Makoto was really a girl-a very flatchested one using a very padded bra- then he'd be no better than the pervert Ito had practically accused him of being. The shame of it would haunt him to-
He looked up sharply. Ito. Makoto was in Ito's room now. She was Ito's classmate, she had plenty of opportunities to be alone with his sister without him around. If Makoto was really a guy... He shuddered at the weirdness of that thought, but turned back resolutely. If Makoto was, for some reason, masquerading as a girl, then it was Ryuuya's job to make sure his intentions towards Ito were pure.
He tiptoed back to the closed door, listening intently. What if Makoto had already finished changing? Then he risked getting caught without being able to make sure of anything...
But no, there was the sound of heavy fabric-probably wet- hitting the floor. 'Here goes nothing,' thought Ryuuya, swallowing thickly.
He gently took a hold of the doorknob and turned it with agonizing slowness. Finally he was able to crack the door open, and before he could have even more second-thoughts, leaned over to peer inside.
The first thing he saw was Makoto's back. Smooth and pale, and slender with a hit of corded muscle under the creamy skin as Makoto bent to pick up one of Ito's shirts from the kotatsu. The towel he had given her/him was slung around her/his neck, blonde hair spilling over it. There was more hair spilled over the top of the dresser.
...What? He looked again. There was a blonde wig on the dresser, the very same shade and texture as what he could see of Makoto's real hair. 'Oh nononono-' he chanted mentally, praying he was mistaken.
Then Makoto straightened and walked over to the mirror, picking up the wig on the way, shirt hanging from one arm.
Ryuuya stopped breathing as his suspicions were confirmed. There was no mistaking that build, nor the look in those eyes now that there was-supposedly-no one to see. Amano Makoto was very much a man, pretty face and all.
I do very much appreciate constructive reviewing. If something bothers you about the story, the grammar, the layout of the text, etc. I want to know about it. That does not give you leave to flame. Insults, negative comments with no explanations and the like will also be thoroughly ignored.
Short positive reviews will not improve my writing but will boost my ego, which is also nice. They are quite welcome.