The date is August 15. For some people, it’s a day filled with strong emotions, but for me, it’s just the middle of August—nothing more, nothing less.
That day, I found myself sitting at my desk from the morning, working through a study guide I had solved about three years ago. To be exact, it wasn’t the actual book from three years ago, but the current year’s edition of the same study guide I had bought back then — a new copy I got yesterday.
It’s bad. I’ve forgotten a huge chunk of the material during the two years I spent in the other world. English I still understand intuitively, but Social Studies and Japanese are a disaster. Math is manageable. Science is better than expected, but still a far cry from where I was three years ago.
The reason why I am studying from a textbook from three years ago now is because I will be taking the high school entrance exam again in February of next year.
Over the past three days, my future was more or less decided in a family meeting. I’ll be officially entering Japan as a refugee—albeit retroactively—and will also be naturalizing as a Japanese citizen.
I’m currently 14 years old and will turn 15 this December. That puts me at about the equivalent of a third-year middle school student. If I pass a special test, I can be recognized as having graduated from middle school, and it seems I’ll be eligible to take the high school entrance exam by the end of the year, or at the latest, early next year.
I’ve kept my original birth month of December. Changing it might lead to confusion if I’m ever asked about it on the spot. My current name is “Yuri,” and after naturalization, it will be written as “優莉.” I should start getting used to writing it that way now. Speaking of which, my current handwriting doesn’t look very feminine, so I’ll start with penmanship practice to fix my habits.
Next comes the high school entrance exam. Like it or not, Japan still heavily values academic credentials, so I’d like to aim for a high-ranking school. Since I’ve got the chance, I’d prefer to aim higher than I did last time—but right now, my academic level has dropped so much that I probably wouldn’t even get into Matsubara High School (nickname: Matsukou), which I passed three years ago. To be fair, it's not that my academic ability has deteriorated—it’s just that I’ve forgotten things. So if I review, I should be able to bounce back.
The Matsukou I used to attend is an all-boys school, so I’m no longer eligible to apply. It was a good school though. Just a ten-minute walk from home—less than five minutes by bike. The walk from the station took about twenty minutes.
Since Matsukou is no longer an option, I have to think about where else I could go. Due to family circumstances, I have to prioritize public schools. This year especially, with both Hina and me taking entrance exams, it’s even more important to consider the household budget.
By the way, my sister Hina, also taking exams this year, has set Matsubara Girls’ High School (nickname: Matsujo) as her first choice. Matsujo is basically the girls’ version of Matsukou, with a similar academic level. It's about a 20-minute walk from home, or under 10 minutes by bike. It’s on the opposite side of the station from Matsukou, but even from the station, it’s less than a 10-minute walk—at least for a typical high school girl.
Why are there separate boys’ and girls’ schools with similar academic levels? Probably due to historical reasons. Matsukou was (I think) founded during the Meiji period, and Matsujo during the Taisho era. Back then, the idea of “boys and girls over the age of seven not sharing the same classroom” was still widely accepted. The idea of boys and girls learning together was likely considered scandalous. Matsujo was founded about 20 years after Matsukou, and considering how little value was placed on girls' education back then, the fact that it even existed was probably considered progressive.
Personally, I really don’t want to attend Matsujo. It’s not about pride or wanting to go to a better school than my little sister—I just can’t handle the idea of going to an all-girls school. Imagine it: someone who used to be a guy, even if I’ve had gender reassignment surgery, attending an all-girls school. I don’t intend to discriminate against the LGBT community, but I do believe in appropriate boundaries. I’m sure the other girls wouldn’t feel comfortable either. That much I can imagine.
When it comes to high school, the uniform is also an important factor. Not that I want to go to some cute uniform school like your average middle school girl.
On the contrary—I’d prefer a school with no uniform policy.
So if I’m looking for a public school within commuting distance that allows casual clothes, then Chikuryou High School might be it. Its academic level is just under a deviation score of 70. It would take just under an hour to get there by combining train and bus. Considering that three years ago my academic level was in the low 60s and that I’ve since forgotten a lot, the hurdle is high—but if I work hard, it’s not impossible. In any case, I won’t be attending middle school for the next five months, so if I study hard during that time, it could be a realistic target.
Just as a side note, the academic levels of us four sisters are: Ryou-nee has a deviation score over 70, Mika-nee is below 50, and Hina and I are just above 60. In terms of athletic ability, it's the opposite. Ryou-nee is below average, Mika-nee is nationally ranked, and Hina and I are at the prefectural tournament level. So naturally, the schools that Ryou-nee and Mika-nee attended aren't options for me. Ryou-nee went to Miyazono High, the toughest public school in the prefecture. Mika-nee got a full scholarship to the prestigious private Himesaki High School for athletes, thanks to her performance in middle school.
Entrance exam study is about securing points where you can—but there’s still time. I should focus on strengthening my weak areas to minimize any gaps.
I’ve got five months left. No need to panic. If I prepare thoroughly and carefully, I’m sure the cherry blossoms will bloom for me.
---
I want to punch my past self for thinking that way.
The turning point came in late August, when I began seriously moving to forge Japanese citizenship.
I illegally left the northern territories by sea—only me—(officially, it was just my dad leaving the country. I managed to sneak out hidden inside one of his huge suitcases), and we staged a touching “reunion” at a continental airport.
For the record, here was the backstory we cooked up for "Yuri":
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In early July, her mother died right in front of her, causing her to lose her memory from the shock.
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While Yuri was staggering around on the brink of starvation, she was miraculously found by a man who looked just like the one in the photo her mother left behind, supposedly her father—Tsukasa Tachibana.
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Tsukasa, skeptical and not convinced she was really his daughter, assumed it was a lie made up by a girl with no family, and in exchange for some money and one dinner, obtained a hair sample from Yuri.
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He remembered that his eldest daughter was majoring in genetics, so he mailed her the hair sample and asked her to run a DNA test.
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The eldest daughter reluctantly ran the test and discovered that they were likely biologically related.
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In a panic, Tsukasa contacted a professional institution to verify it, which also confirmed their blood relation.
As a result, Tsukasa returned to the continent in September to bring Yuri back to Japan.
…This setup makes Dad look like a complete jerk. Trying to deny the daughter left behind by his foreign mistress, only to get caught by genetic evidence and forced to accept her? That's low. I’m really sorry, Dad. I can’t believe you let yourself take the blame for my sake.
Also, how was the initial departure from Japan so easy? Turns out the immigration officer was someone Dad knew. Since Dad frequently left by sea, and his passport was covered in stamps, they probably didn’t want to bother checking every piece of luggage. We exploited that trust—basically a crime. Sorry again, Dad.
Up to that point, everything went relatively smoothly. The trouble came afterward.
Even with advance groundwork, Yuri didn’t exist in any country’s official records. That raised the big question—should we even be letting someone like that naturalize, or enter Japan at all?
Specifically, I was confined in an immigration detention center—or maybe a refugee support center—for two whole months. Yes, confined. I wasn’t allowed to leave the facility, and there was hardly any entertainment inside. Even though we’d already proven our parent-child relationship via DNA testing, I had to do it again. It was a huge ordeal.
With nothing to do, and the facility far from home, it was hard to even get care packages. I spent my days endlessly copying practice books for studying Japanese (mainly to get rid of my handwriting quirks). I finally got out in November. Which meant I’d wasted the entirety of September and October—crucial months for any exam taker. The only silver lining was that I fixed my handwriting.
So, I finally returned home after two months. And the first thing I heard when I walked through the door was:
"Thanks for your service."
That really bummed me out. What am I, a yakuza thug fresh out of jail? Incidentally, Mika-nee got special permission from her university to come home since the family was "gaining a new member" today.
“Well, well. Now that Yuu’s officially gotten Japanese nationality, things worked out in the end.”
“Ah—about that. I still don’t have Japanese nationality yet. Legally, I’m still a foreign citizen. My official name is now Yuri Tachibana, and I’m recognized as a child of the family.”
“Technically, we could’ve processed everything together, but doing so would’ve delayed your residence permit. So we prioritized a humanitarian approach—getting recognition as family and permission to live in Japan first. The rest of the paperwork is being processed. Yuuji—I mean, Yuri—will probably get Japanese citizenship by the end of the year, or early next year at the latest. That’s also when your legal name will change to Yūri Tachibana in the family register. Just so you know, even after gaining Japanese citizenship, you’ll still be dual nationality until you turn twenty.”
“Wait, I can’t choose before I turn twenty? Also… ‘Yūri,’ huh...”
“Yes, from now on, you’re not Yuuji. You’re Yūri. …We’ll probably make mistakes too, but we all need to get used to it.”
“Ughhh...”
“Yuu—no, Yuri. Girls don’t talk like that.”
“Yes, Mika-nee.”
If I didn’t give in here, things would only get worse. It couldn’t be helped.
But an even bigger problem was waiting.
“That's right, Yuu-chan. By the way, even though you’re not yet a Japanese citizen, can you read this?”
Hina, grinning ear to ear, held a slip of paper out in front of me. It was labeled “Residence Register Copy.” The part she pointed at read...
“Tachibana Hina.”
“And next to it, what does it say?”
“Third daughter.”
“Wow, amazing! You’re so smart, Yuri-chan! Now, who do you think Tachibana Hina refers to?”
I got the message loud and clear. This one was going to be a pain. In front of me, Hina beamed happily. Slightly to the side, my dad and sisters watched with amused smiles.
With a sigh, I pointed to Hina.
“That’s right. I’m Tachibana Hina. So, what does it say in the line under mine?”
“Yuri Tachibana.”
“Yuri-chan, you’re amazing! Your Japanese is perfect! And as you might have guessed, Yuri Tachibana is you! Now, here’s the most important part—what does it say in the field next to your name?”
Hina pointed to the entry under "third daughter"—it said:
“Fourth daughter.”
“Yuri-chan, you’re incredible! That’s correct! Now then, do you know what ‘fourth daughter’ means?”
“The fourth girl born among the sisters.”
“Exactly! That means you’re the fourth daughter. And I’m the third. Do you know what ‘third daughter’ means?”
“The third girl born among the sisters.”
“Right! I’m the third-born girl. And Yuri-chan, you’re the fourth. Did you know? In Japanese families, a girl born earlier is called ‘Onee-chan’ by the girls born after. Sooo... knowing all that, what do you think you should call me from now on?”
“Hina.”
“Huh? I didn’t quite catch that. Could you say it again? After properly thinking about what’s written on this official document?”
Still grinning, Dad and my sisters watched on. All I could do was sigh again.
“…Hina-nee.”
“Yes! That’s right! I’m Hina-nee! Don’t forget it!”
For some reason, Hina hugged me like crazy, showering me in over-the-top affection.
“Hina, why are you so happy? And really, is cuddling up to someone who used to be a guy that fun?”
“Hm? Is this the cheeky mouth that dares to talk back to her onee-chan?”
Now she was pulling on both my cheeks. Seriously? How long is this going to go on?
“Yuri, if you’re thinking long-term, it’s better to just go along with it.”
“Hey, Yuri-chan. I’ll give you one more chance. What are you going to call me from now on?”
Hina finally let go of my cheeks. Well, if I keep calling only Ryou-nee and Mika-nee with 'nee' while using Hina's name without honorifics, it's going to look weird to everyone else. Even if we're in the same grade, I'm shorter and have a baby face—there's no way I look older than her.
“I’m sorry. Hina-nee.”
“Yes! Good girl! I forgive you!”
Back to the aggressive hugging and petting. How long is this going to last?
Actually, wait a second. I just remembered—I used to wish I had a little brother back in elementary school (though I’ve since given up on that).
Our family was overwhelmingly matriarchal. I wanted an ally—preferably a quiet, obedient little brother. Of course, such an ideal little brother probably doesn’t exist in real life, considering how my actual younger sister turned out. Still, maybe Hina wanted the same—a junior who’d listen to her and act cute. She has been a girl longer than me, after all. Putting up with a little selfishness is within big-brotherly tolerance, I guess.
“Hina. From now on, you’re a onee-chan too. So you realize that when we go shopping as a family, your bag won’t be the lightest anymore, and you won’t get out of chores as easily, right?”
“I-I know that.”
“Up until now, Yuuji always handled changing lightbulbs and working up high. But going forward, Yuri, being shorter, gets the lowest priority for high-up tasks. Since Hina’s home more often, you’ll be taking the lead, okay?”
“I-I know. I’m a onee-chan now.”
“Hina-nee. I’m counting on you from now on.”
“!! Yup yup! You got it! Don’t worry! I’m your onee-chan, Yuri-chan! I’ll be looking after you from now on!”
What followed was Hina being way too excited.
She insisted we bathe together, said she’d wash me, and then insisted we sleep in the same bed...
I wanted to scream: I’m not some life-sized dress-up doll!
Still, I figured this hyper-affectionate phase would burn itself out in a week or so. I just had to endure it for a little while.
…As it turned out, the smothering treatment lasted far longer than expected—an entire month, in fact.
And little did I know, being treated like the youngest sister would continue far, far into the future.
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