Subbody ~Two Selves~ Maid Play: Chizuru Aisaka Edition Part 1 (Patreon)

The steam from the ramen in front of me swayed hazily. In my apartment on a quiet afternoon, the air conditioner blasting too cold, I slurped my cup noodles alone.

Laughter from some variety show I didn’t understand played on the TV.

"Ugh… so boring. I’d rather be flirting with a cute girl than this…"

The complaint slipped out as a mutter. Outside, it was a warm summer day, but I couldn’t be bothered to leave the kotatsu.

I opened my phone and scrolled through social media, but it was just the same faces—nothing fresh. Almost on a whim, I stood up and looked down through the window. The sparsely populated sidewalk of the housing complex, the receding figure of a housewife pedaling her bike.

The usual scenery.

And then—as if tearing through that ordinary afternoon—the doorbell suddenly rang.

"Huh?"

No delivery notice. Friends rarely came over.

Though suspicious, I shuffled toward the entrance, dragging my feet.

"Yeah, he—"

The moment I opened the door, my breath caught.

There—

A maid outfit, its jet-black frills swaying.

A slender waist peeking from beneath the white apron.

And beneath long, tear-dampened lashes—gemlike eyes, locked onto mine.

"…Um."

A faint, strained voice reached me.

The maid’s trembling fingers clutched at the hem of her skirt, her lips pressed tightly together. In all my life, I’d never seen a beauty this striking appear before me.

"Eh, uh…?"

My mind went blank.

The suddenness of it all made me reflexively move to close the door—

"Wait…! Help… me, I…!"

Bizarre words tumbled out.

"…Hah?"

My hand froze.

I definitely heard it. Just now—this girl had said "me".

This beautiful maid.

My fingers almost slipped off the doorknob when the word "me" stabbed into my ears. That masculine way of speaking, coming from a beautiful girl's lips, was too unnatural, too abrupt.

"…The hell did you just say?"

My voice cracked from shock as I reflexively asked her back. The girl in the maid outfit looked to be around twenty—not much different from my age. But her delicate features and slender frame made her seem like she belonged in another world entirely.

She leaned forward urgently, grasping at the door.

"Woah, hey—watch it!"

Instinctively, I braced the door open. Her breath—sweet yet vaguely familiar—drifted toward me.

"Sorry, but I seriously need help… I just knew you’d understand…"

There it was again. Completely male speech. And weirdly casual, like he—no, she—was talking to me like we were old friends.

"…Who the hell are you?"

I forced down my wariness and questioned her. For a split second, her expression darkened, brows furrowing in distress.

"That’s… hard to explain…"

Her voice was fragmented, desperate—like she was struggling to convey something that wouldn't fully form into words. It felt like being trapped in some kind of incoherent dream.

Then, I caught the panicked glint in her eyes. She really was cornered. No mere weirdo would look this genuinely distressed.

"…How do you know my name?"

When I tested the question, she exhaled slightly in relief.

"Oizumi Shouta, 25 years old, Apartment 504, XX Mansion. Hobbies are—"

"Hey, wait, hold on—!"

My spine froze. Too accurate. This stranger was reciting personal details with terrifying precision.

"How the… wait, just—come inside first—no, no, hold on—"

The confusion deepened. By all logic, this should be a call-the-cops situation. But she knew things too naturally—and worse, there was something unnervingly familiar about her.

Then, her next words threw me further into chaos.

"Your PC password is 'pokemon123,' right? That game you bought with your credit card yesterday was—"

"Stop! How the hell do you know that?!"

Cold sweat dripped down my back. This was way beyond coincidence. It was almost like… like another me was standing there.

"Just trust me… please. Can I at least come inside? It’s… not safe out here."

At that, I glanced around. She had a point—neighbors might start noticing. Standing in the doorway with this… thing that looked like a maid but spoke like me, I was forced to make a decision.

Despite the ominous warning bells her unsettling knowledge set off, I still ended up letting her inside. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, one thought flashed through my mind—This might have been a mistake.

Scenes from crime dramas—honey traps, elaborate scams—raced through my head. Any second now, thugs might burst in through the window. Or maybe hidden mics were already set up somewhere. My palms grew damp with sweat just thinking about it.

"…Can I sit?"

Her voice snapped me back to reality. Before I could even answer, she flopped down in my usual spot at the kotatsu. The skirt of her maid dress hiked up shamelessly as she sprawled out, legs akimbo. Black stockings with seams slightly askew revealed glimpses of bare toes peeking from beneath.

"This is where you usually sit, right?"

She stretched out a hand, pulling the exact cushion I always used toward herself. Instinctively, I grimaced. She moved with the ease of… well, someone who owned the damn apartment.

Her hands wandered restlessly over her own body—palming the unfamiliar curve of her waist, staring in fascination, then gathering long silver hair into her hands as if surprised by its weight and texture. She wouldn’t sit still.

Her skirt was practically riding up to the point of indecency, just shy of giving me a full view. I nearly glanced away out of reflex, but—was she even a girl? That slouched, careless posture didn’t match at all.

"Uh, hey…"

"Hm?"

She blinked at me with vacant curiosity before finally noticing the state of her skirt. In a fluster, she snapped her legs shut and straightened up—only to collapse right back into a lazy slouch two seconds later.

The air hung thick between us. I knew I had to ask something, but where the hell do you even start? There was no strategy for interrogating a suspiciously beautiful girl who seemed to know too much.

The sound of her—no, his—sharp inhale echoed through the room. Clenching trembling fists in her lap, face tight with nerves, she opened her mouth like someone about to make the kind of confession that upends your world.

"Dude… I'm actually you."

The utter absurdity of it all choked me. I barely stifled a laugh, my voice cracking as I blurted, "The fuck?" Was this just a really bad joke, or was I genuinely dealing with someone unhinged? But her eyes—dark and shattered—burned with this desperate sincerity. Like she was grappling with a truth even she could barely comprehend, trying to force it into words.

The silence between us cracked. She raked a hand through her hair, knuckles white, struggling.

"Look, I—I wished for it, okay? 'I wanna flirt with a cute girl.' And then this—!"

My brain rejected it wholesale. Was I the one losing it? I stared hard. No matter how I squinted, all I saw was this undeniably gorgeous maid—silver hair cascading down her back, delicate shoulders, soft curves. The frills of her dress only accentuated how distractingly female she was. This was supposed to be me?

And yet.

"I was binge-watching that stupid maid anime before bed. That's probably why I ended up looking like this." She gripped the fabric of her skirt, voice wavering. "Next thing I knew, I woke up with fucking tits, in some random alley. I promise I didn’t actually think the wish would—fuck!"

Her fist shook.

"This isn't just weird—it's bad. I don’t have anything. No ID, no records. Almost got stopped by some old lady on my way here. If the cops pick me up, I'm done."

It was ridiculous. Straight-up fantasy bullshit. But—god—the phrasing was mine. The unnatural precision about my life. And worst of all, the way she kept slipping into rougher, masculine speech when she panicked.

"…So… help me."

Holy shit. This might actually be real.

The air in the room was thick, the faint glow from the curtains softly outlining her—no, his?—figure. She looked like she was desperately searching for the right words.

"…I get it. You don't believe me."

She hunched her shoulders slightly, looking down. "But there’s gotta be something only we’d know, right? Stuff we’d never tell anyone?"

I crossed my arms. "Fine. Then tell me—all of my PC passwords."

She didn’t even hesitate before rattling them off.

"Main one’s 'pokemon123,' backup is 'dai2sayama,' and the encrypted hidden folder’s passphrase is 'megu39_ichi.'"

"……"

My stomach twisted. It felt like my skull had been cracked open. A maid—who shouldn’t even exist—casually listing passwords no one else on earth could possibly know.

"…You know what I like, then?"

"…Kink-wise?" She tilted her head, blinking once. "Micro bikini maids, handjobs, rolled-up skirts, cowgirl creampies—"

"Gh—!" I winced before she could finish. Okay, yeah, I heard that. Jesus! And worst of all… she was dead right.

"Oh, also, last month you were deep into MAAN's—"

"Okay! STOP! I believe you—I fucking believe you—!" I cut her off, hand raised, pulse racing. Being that accurate wasn’t reassuring—it was terrifying.

"…Told you," she mumbled, lips twitching into something almost like relief.

"We are the same person. So… if you help me—"

Slowly, her fingers hooked into the hem of her skirt, lifting it just slightly. She kept her gaze lowered.

"…I’ll do anything, y’know."

My chest tightened. Every filthy thing this ridiculously beautiful maid just implied—every fantasy I’d only ever imagined—was right here…

But the real horror? Every tiny tell buried in her gestures. The wording, the way her eyes flickered, the hesitation—it was like looking into a warped mirror.

"…Fine. For now, I’ll believe the story."

The second I said it, her eyes snapped wide open. Something in them—relief? desperation?—flared back to life.

She was trembling. Terror that I might cast her out. Relief that I hadn’t. And beneath it all…

She looked happy.

The silence of the room was broken by the soft whisper from the maid girl (or perhaps, the "me" from another timeline): "…Thank god…"

In that moment, her expression brightened instantly, the tension visibly draining from her shoulders. Her posture—once rigid with nerves—relaxed, and she gently rested her hands on her knees.

"Knew it… I knew you'd understand!"

There was a hint of self-deprecation in her voice, but beneath it, unmistakable relief. My own feelings were… complicated. A sense of unreality lingered—was this really happening?—and yet, I couldn't help but be drawn in by her radiant smile.

"…I'm not completely convinced yet," I hedged, watching her closely. "But if you're serious about doing… anything to stay here, then… fine."

"Seriously?! You're the best—!"

Her reaction was almost childlike—she clapped her hands together, eyes sparkling. It was disarmingly cute… but also unsettlingly familiar. Of course I’d do that. And the way she crowed, "Damn right, that's so me!" only hammered it home. If this was an act, it was too flawless.

…But.

She was still a breathtakingly beautiful girl. And she had just promised to do anything. The implications alone made my throat run dry. I swallowed hard, forcing the heat in my gut to simmer down.

No one would invent this insane of a lie just to mess with me.

…So where the hell did that leave us?

Relief brimming in every motion, she stood and began examining the apartment like it was hers, moving with a familiarity that shouldn’t exist. There was no going back now.

Our bizarre life together—two versions of myself, diverged—had just begun.