"Uh... okay?" The word felt strangled, barely audible above the cafe's low hum. My face was burning, a deep, undeniable blush spreading from my neck up to my hairline. My old guy brain was screaming abort, abort, while every fiber of my being was frozen by the sheer, bizarre reality of the situation.
Nami's expression softened slightly, that bright eagerness tempered with a touch of gentle consideration. She didn't just grab. Her fingers, warm and slender, hovered for a brief second before tentatively making contact with my forearm, just below the cuff of my smart top. The fabric was smooth, a light, solid color that felt surprisingly delicate against my skin. The trousers I wore were dark and tailored, making the top feel even more 'smart' by contrast – an outfit the AI promised projected 'relaxed confidence'. Right now, I felt anything but relaxed.
Her touch was light at first, exploratory. Not a squeeze, but a gentle pressure, her fingertips tracing the line of my forearm. My muscle, the one that screamed silent protests through a 10k run every morning, felt hard and dense beneath the skin. It was my muscle, built by my will, fueled by my determination... but it was in her arm. The disconnect was jarring, a physical manifestation of my entire impossible situation.
Nami's eyes widened further, her playful smile fading, replaced by genuine, unadulterated surprise. Her fingers pressed a little firmer, feeling the unyielding hardness beneath the soft skin. Her gaze lifted from my arm to my face, those light brown eyes sparking with something akin to wonder.
"Whoa," she breathed out again, the sound barely a whisper. "Chi-chan... it's... it's really hard. Like... like actual rock."
She wasn't wrong. The rapid, enhanced gains meant my muscles were dense, efficient. They felt like steel cords under the skin. But hearing her describe them, feeling her touch them... it was intensely, uniquely awkward.
The cafe, which had faded into background noise during my internal panic, seemed to reassert itself. I became acutely aware of the low murmur of conversations around us, the clinking of cups, the gentle aroma of coffee and pastries. And I became aware that some of that murmur had quieted.
My eyes flickered around the room. People were looking. Not everyone, but enough. Heads were turned. A group of high school girls at a nearby table had paused their animated chat, glancing our way with expressions ranging from curiosity to mild awe. A couple of guys sitting near the window were definitely staring, then quickly looking away when they thought I might catch them. Even the barista behind the counter seemed to be doing a double-take.
It wasn't just Nami's undeniable beauty in that summery yellow dress, her orange hair flowing around her, her radiant smile. It wasn't just the way I was dressed in my AI-approved ensemble, looking presentable and put-together for perhaps the first time in this body without a school uniform masking me. It was the combination. Two girls, sitting together, one looking stunning, the other... being examined for muscle definition, creating a visual that was clearly unexpected, possibly intriguing, maybe even confusing, to the outside observers. The casual public touch, combined with Nami's reaction, drew attention like a spotlight.
My blush deepened, fueled by the sheer awkwardness of the moment and the unwanted scrutiny. This wasn't just a private moment between two increasingly strange friends; it was happening in a public space, under the gaze of people who had no idea about the body swaps, the AI, the spatial distortions, or the fact that the girl being touched was actually a completely bewildered guy inside.
Nami, seemingly oblivious to the surrounding attention in her focus, was still gently probing my arm, her fingertips moving along the curve of my biceps. "Seriously," she murmured, almost to herself. "I've felt... my brother's muscles before, and even his aren't... this dense. What are you doing?"
Her brother. Luffy. Of course. The guy known for having rubber-like muscles. If her perception of muscle was based on his, then mine, which was building dense, human-physics-abiding strength, might genuinely feel alien to her.
She finally lifted her hand, her eyes still wide with genuine fascination. She looked at me, really looked at me, and the playful sparkle was back, but layered with a new, intense curiosity.
"Chi-chan," she said, her voice dropping again, leaning in slightly, the cafe chatter fading once more. "You're hiding something, aren't you? Something... really interesting."
My heart jumped into my throat. Had she figured it out? Not the body swap, surely, but... something? Something about the way I was training? Something about my strength? That knowing look from the school courtyard was back, magnified tenfold.
"What... what do you mean?" I managed to ask, my voice thin, trying desperately to maintain composure, trying to push down the rising panic.
Nami held my gaze, her expression unreadable for a brief moment. Then, a slow, sharp grin spread across her face, the kind that promised trouble, adventure, or possibly both.
"Just that..." she leaned back slightly, gesturing towards my arm, then encompassing me with a wave of her hand. "This kind of... power... doesn't just come from doing basic push-ups and squats, no matter how many hundreds you do." Her eyes narrowed playfully. "So, tell me, Chi-chan... exactly what kind of secret training are you really doing?"