#28
Physically, the city hadn’t changed.
Everything was still where William remembered it being. The crooked streetlamp on the corner that leaned just enough to look tired. The faded blue awning of the bakery smelled faintly of sugar even before sunrise. The convenience store with its sun-bleached posters taped in the window, stubbornly clinging there despite years of weather.
Some details had shifted—names on shop signs, the location of a kiosk or two—but they were the sort of minor changes you might only notice if you were paying attention. The map of the city still fit perfectly into his memory.
What didn’t fit anymore was the feeling. The mood. Or maybe just the scenery around him.
The streets were quieter now. Not just less busy—different. No crowd of people hurrying to appointments, checking watches. No office workers with takeaway coffees, power-walking to beat the clock. No political vans with speakers blaring campaign slogans.
Instead, there were only six or seven vehicles in the span of several minutes. A handful of pedestrians strolled at unhurried paces. The air was fresh, scented faintly with flowers and freshly cut grass. Lawns were neatly kept, and sidewalks were free of litter.
And everywhere, there were women.
William noticed it right away: the sidewalks, front yards, and open shop doors were filled almost entirely with women of all ages. Some were tending gardens, their hands deep in the soil as sunlight glinted off the fine sheen of perspiration on their arms. Others swept walkways in slow, unhurried arcs. One—high on a ladder—was repairing a junction box, humming softly as if it were no more unusual than folding laundry.
But it wasn’t their numbers that struck him. It was how they were.
Their clothing was… lighter. Much lighter. Loose, airy fabrics that seemed to exist more for comfort than for coverage. Tank tops hung open at the sides, shorts cut so high they looked more like a suggestion than a garment, soft wraps tied without concern if they slipped. A few wore only simple wraps at the waist or light shirts left open in the front, their movements utterly unbothered by it.
What stunned William wasn’t the amount of skin on display—it was the casualness. No “look at me” glances. No self-conscious adjustments. No tugging at hems or pulling fabrics closed. It was as if the idea of needing to cover up simply didn’t exist here anymore.
He already learned about it before from how his family behaves around him, or the internet. He had seen images online. But seeing it here, in front of him, made it real in a way that still left him awestruck.
A few men passed by, but they were scarce. Four, maybe five, in the span of several minutes. None lingered, none slowed, none even glanced at the women nearby.
Not a flicker of interest from any of them. If anything, they moved with deliberate disinterest, as though trained not to see. One man even passed within arm’s reach of a woman crouching to adjust her sandal, the loose side of her top falling open briefly—and he didn’t so much as blink.
Before, a scene like this would have been magnetic for male attention—catcalls, curious stares, perhaps a lingering smile from across the street. Now? The men might as well have been passing lampposts.
William, on the other hand, found himself stopping.
He leaned against a light post, watching as though studying the rituals of some foreign culture. A young woman in her early twenties, hair piled high in a loose knot, was pulling weeds from a flowerbed. Another, mid-thirties perhaps, painted her porch railing with slow, deliberate strokes, her wrap sliding off one shoulder without any move to fix it. Two more passed by, deep in conversation, laughter ringing in the summer air—one in a breezy tunic that fluttered in the breeze, the other in what looked like an oversized shirt and bare legs, tanned from the sun.
It felt… surreal.
Some of them were strikingly beautiful—faces you might expect to see in a magazine—while others had an unpolished, everyday charm. Yet they all shared the same quiet assurance, a comfort in their presence that radiated outward. The sunlight touched them like a soft brushstroke—on the curve of a cheek, the line of an arm, the sway of hair in the wind. The whole street felt like a slow-moving gallery of living portraits.
It was almost too much to take in at once.
Before, his neighborhood had been friendly, but distant. People exchanged polite nods and brief greetings. Women often moved with an invisible shield, a subtle guard in their posture when passing strangers. Now, that barrier was gone. The women weren’t avoiding his gaze—or anyone’s. If they noticed him watching, they didn’t seem to mind. One even smiled faintly before going back to her work.
William’s mind kept flicking between then and now, trying to reconcile them. The changes weren’t just in clothing or chores—it was the whole social gravity that had shifted. Men, it seemed, were quieter now. Less visible. Women filled the space instead, not just physically but socially.
He caught himself wondering: was this just his neighborhood, or was this everywhere? Did other parts of the city feel the same? Did other men still look like he did, or do they act uncaring like this?
The answers were clear as day.
And yet, how… he can’t understand.
As a man, how could they not feel interested, feel aroused, seeing a woman’s body?
No matter the universe, isn’t it normal for a man to feel aroused?
A warm breeze drifted past, carrying the faint scent of blossoms and sun-warmed concrete. Somewhere nearby, a radio played slow music, half-muted by the sound of conversation and the rhythmic tap of a hammer.
He turned toward the noise.
Across the street, a woman stood in her yard repairing a broken section of fence. One foot rested on the lower rail for balance, her knee bent as she leaned forward to drive in a nail. She wore simple denim shorts and an open-work shirt, the fabric shifting with each movement. Sunlight traced the line of her shoulder, glinting faintly where skin met shadow. Every motion was unhurried, almost meditative, as if she had all the time in the world.
She looked beautiful—effortlessly so. The kind of beauty that didn’t need to be announced, only existed. Enough, William thought, to draw the gaze of any man… in the world he once knew.
But here, beauty seemed invisible.
The man walking his dog across the street didn’t spare her a glance. The cyclist who coasted by was busy adjusting his water bottle. Even the delivery driver pulling up to the curb barely registered her presence before unloading a box.
No one seemed to see her. Not really.
Except for him.
For William, the sight was magnetic, pulling his attention as naturally as gravity. He watched the subtle shift of her weight as she reached for another nail, the way her hair—tied loosely at the nape of her neck—slipped forward when she leaned. There was no performance in it, no awareness of being observed. Just the quiet, unpolished grace of someone completely absorbed in their task.
“Hi, good morning.”
The voice came suddenly, warm yet direct, close enough to startle him.
“Good morning,” he replied automatically, eyes darting away from the fence to find the source.
A flicker of alarm ran through him—had she caught him staring? Would she think he was some kind of creep, lingering in plain sight just to watch? But the woman before him seemed unconcerned, her expression neither accusing nor guarded. If anything, she looked mildly curious.
“…If I’m not wrong,” she said, leaning casually against the wooden fence that divided her yard from the sidewalk, “you’re Allison-san’s brat, aren’t you?”
Her words were blunt, but her tone carried a kind of lazy amusement, as though teasing him came as naturally as breathing.
William blinked. “Uh… yes, I’m William.”
She regarded him with an almost languid gaze, the kind that made it hard to tell whether she was studying him or simply too relaxed to bother looking away. Her voice, though edged with a certain coarseness, had a softness to it—pleasant, even soothing.
She was dressed in clothing that immediately caught his eye: a deep, indigo robe tied loosely at the waist, the fabric shifting with the lightest movements. It reminded him of the kimonos he’d seen in old movies or anime, though whether it was authentic or just inspired by the style, he couldn’t tell.
If he had to guess, she was in her late thirties, though the smoothness of her features and the calm assurance in her posture made her seem timeless. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, and there was a hint of heaviness in her eyes—not unpleasant, but the kind that suggested she might have been drinking, or simply enjoying the warm ease of the morning.
She didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, she let it stretch, watching him the way one might watch an interesting animal wander into the garden.
More importantly, her Kimono was open, hanging around her arms, causing her breasts to greet him. However, she didn’t seem to care at all.
What caught his attention more was her open and carefree demeanor despite having her ample breasts shown to the world. She seemed to radiate a sense of confidence and contentment that he found refreshing.
“Y, yes, my name’s William… you are?”
“Oh? You responded, and you’re unexpectedly polite…” She seemed surprised that he replied to her and even greeted her back.
She was completely ignoring the fact that she was baring her breast to a man. Or probably, she knows but just didn’t care about it.
In the previous world, it wouldn’t be odd for a man to boldly expose his chest even if they walked around in the middle of the city- of course, common sense and sense of shame would keep men from going around topless in public, but a considerable number of men would not mind at all. And like that case, in this world, women seem perfectly fine with their breasts out.
They don’t seem to deem the act of showing their breasts to a man as any kind of indecent action/manner.
“Hatayama Akiko is my name… haven’t we met before? Your mom and I were long-time friends. I’ve been in your house a couple of times,” the woman said.
William smiled wryly, “I’m sorry, I…”
“Oh, it’s fine. I know I’m not that memorable.”
“No, that’s not what I,”
“I said it’s okay. The truth still stands that you don’t remember me,” Hatayama Akiko shrugged it off with a slight chuckle, seemly knowing what he was trying to say. And she was right, he doesn’t remember her. William felt guilty.
However, this time he is wrongly accused.
There was a reason why he could not remember her, as him being from another world. Although that’s not something he can say.
“Anyway, what are you doing here?”
“Ahm, I’m just wandering around,”
“In this heat?”
“Well, it’s hot, but it’s more boring staying inside the house, with this heat…” he quipped.
“Hm, I guess you have a point. But be careful, there are a lot of bad people nowadays,” she nodded her head, accepting his excuse. She drank what William could guess was alcohol from his ceramic cup and let out a long sigh, “Ahh, that hits the spot….” But then suddenly, she looked at him and noticed something. Her lips curled into a smile.
“…never seen a woman’s chest before?” she asks, an amused grin appearing on her lips.
William was startled, knowing he had been caught. Though she felt a bit uncomfortable under her gaze, he couldn’t help but stare at her bare chest. After all, it was just there, right in front of him, as if she were trying to show it to him. Who was he to deny such wonderful charity, right?
Nevertheless, the woman’s beauty and the way she carried herself were mesmerizing. He couldn’t believe she was drunk; she seemed so composed and elegant despite her current state.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” he stammered, feeling like a schoolboy caught doing something naughty.
“… oh, no, it’s fine. No harm done. I don’t think there’s any woman out there who would mind being seen, much less by a handsome young man like you,” she let out a laugh and even cupped her amazing bust and jiggled it playfully.
As a man, if there are breasts in front of you, you’d naturally want to look, right?
Hatayama Akiko seemed to be surprised that William was staring at her breasts. Though she doesn’t mind that he does… rather, she felt happy that he was interested in her body.
“As if there would ever be a man who would get interested in a flabby chest like this~” she teased, still squeezing her chest.
William was taken aback by her words, but he couldn’t help but feel amused as well.
He reached out and, to her surprise, cupped her left breast, squeezing it gently.
“Well, I for one, am interested,”
Akiko stared at him in shock, before her surprise was replaced with an intriguing look.
“Well, you’re full of surprises,” she muttered, a hint of curiosity in her voice.
However, though she was aware of what he was doing, she didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping it.
She merely watched as William continued to fondle her breast with a smile on her lips. She even let out a moan accidentally when his touch became more intense. She was enjoying his touch, proven by the looks she was giving him.
“But are you okay touching them? They’ve gotten sweaty because of the heat. My chest is big, so the sweat tends to pool in there… don’t you think it’s disgusting?”
“I don’t mind at all. Rather, they looked beautiful,”
“Is that so?”
Akiko couldn’t help but smile at his response. She never thought that someone could find her body attractive, especially in its unflattering state. She had already given up finding someone, especially a man, who could appreciate what she has, and accept what she doesn’t have.
Naturally, it was fortunate that she managed to find a man who settled with her, though hard to accept, that was because of the cards laid on the table, with barely any love involved.
If she could, she would want to have someone who would accept what she was, and love what she has, despite her many flaws. Even she was once a woman who fantasized about finding love. Unfortunately, Reality was not that forgiving.
But now, here was William, showing her that she was beautiful and desirable no matter what.
Feeling bolder, she took William’s hand and placed it on her other breast.
“Then, have your fill, Mr. Brave,” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Without hesitation, William continued to touch and explore her chest, making Akiko moan softly in pleasure. As they basked in the heat and the intimacy of the moment, the mood between them began to blossom into something more. They chatted for a while longer.
Akiko even offered to have a drink of sake, for which he politely accepted.
“Keep it a secret from Mom,” he said, which earned an amused giggle from the beautiful Japanese woman.
“Don’t worry, secrets are safe with me,” she grinned.
They started talking about a lot of things. Though mainly, she was the one keeping the conversation, even opening up about how annoying her work was and how irritating her boss was, especially.
