Chapter 4 | The Ultimate Pajama Theory

“How many pairs of pajamas do you have?”

It was my second day at Makura’s place, and as always, she greeted me in pajamas, this time yawning in a long-sleeved gingham check set.

I’d seen her in pajamas three times now, each one different.

“How many…?” Makura paused her game, sitting cross-legged on the floor. She tilted her head, glancing upward as if counting in her mind. “…Too many to count.”

“You have that many!?”

“Yup. If I see a good one, I just buy it.”

“Sure, you might grab one you like, but do you really need that many?”

For me, it’s simple: a gray sweats set I always wear and a no-brand tracksuit as a backup. They’re not even proper pajamas—just clothes I sleep in.

“No, no, I need them,” Makura insisted, her voice firm. “I mean, I don’t go out, right?”

“Don’t go out? That’s one way to put it.”

“I don’t. Especially this summer break, I’ve decided I’m not stepping outside.” A sly grin spread across her face.

“You live alone, though. What about food?”

“The modern age is amazing. With a flick of a finger, fish come from the sea, veggies from the fields, straight to my doorstep.” Makura mimed clicking a mouse, clearly meaning online shopping.

“Nah, those fish and veggies left their homes ages ago and are just chilling in a nearby warehouse.”

“Such a level-headed point!” she exclaimed, laughing.

Still, if she’s ordering ingredients online, she’s probably getting daily necessities and everything else delivered too. She’s really committed to staying indoors.

“Also, I’m not into loungewear,” Makura added, steering the conversation back.

“Not into loungewear…? So, you don’t change out of pajamas when you wake up?”

“Exactly! Isn’t it inefficient? I’m just staying home, so why bother changing? It just makes more laundry, and that’s a hassle.”

“Well, yeah, I guess…”

“Doing bothersome things goes against the path of depravity.” Makura puffed out her chest proudly, as if she’d declared something profound.

The path of depravity, huh… I’m the type to separate loungewear and pajamas, but I understood her point. On days off, changing right after waking up can feel like a chore. I tried thinking of reasons to keep them separate—keeping pajamas clean, maybe switching mental gears—but if Makura changes her pajamas daily, cleanliness isn’t an issue. And for her stay-at-home, laid-back lifestyle, there’s no need to shift gears.

In terms of her so-called path of depravity, it’s actually pretty logical.

“Plus, you can wear them forever without getting tired. Super comfy, perfect for sleeping. That’s pajamas. Like, aren’t they the best?” Makura dramatically covered her mouth, feigning shock.

“I get what you mean, but… why do you have so many?” My original question still lingered, unanswered.

“Well, you see, I’m actually super into fashion.”

“…Even though you don’t go out?” I asked reflexively, then instantly worried I’d crossed a line. But Makura just grinned.

“I was even more into it when I used to go out.”

“…I see.”

Maybe she used to be a fashion-loving, outgoing girl. Now, though, she’s holed up at home. I was curious why, but I couldn’t bring myself to pry.

“You know, fashion’s key to making every day fulfilling, even if I’m stuck at home,” she said.

“Got it.”

“Wearing different ones kinda calms me down…” Makura’s voice softened, relaxed.

Well, the mystery of her ever-changing pajamas was sort of solved.

“When I find a good one online, I just click and buy.” With a “Yoisho,” Makura stood and shuffled to a closet in the corner. She opened a translucent storage case, and clothes practically spilled out, like they’d been stuffed in with a spring.

“That looks like a ton.”

“Yeah, I really don’t know how many I have.” Makura picked up a fallen piece, holding it against her chest or giving it a sniff.

As I watched, she glanced back with a mischievous smile. “Wanna see?”

“Huh?”

Her pajamas, right? That’s what she meant, given the conversation.

“…Not really.”

“No, no, this is where you’re supposed to jump in with, ‘Yes, please, I beg you!’” she teased, her voice brimming with energy.

“What kind of character am I supposed to be?” I shot back.

“So, wanna see?”

Asked again, I couldn’t refuse twice. “…Yeah, sure,” I nodded, honestly curious about what other pajamas she had.

“Alright, this is for you, Manamichi-kun!” Makura grabbed a few pairs from the case, closed the door, and headed to the hallway. Her movements were brisker than before, her voice almost bouncy.

Wait, she’s gonna show me…?

As I wondered, the door swung open. “Ta-da!”

“You changed!?”

Sure enough, she’d swapped into one of the pajamas she’d taken.

“Yup, of course! It’s easier to see this way, right?”

It was like a fairy-tale heroine had stepped out of a storybook—a velour wine-red dress, its white frilled collar catching the light, topped with a hood adorned with long ribbon ties that could be knotted into a bonnet. Makura spun gracefully, the fabric swaying with her. “So, so? It’s cute, right?”

It was undeniably cute. But my gaze lingered on her pale, slender legs, exposed for the first time. She’d always worn long pants before, so the sight of her bare legs drew my eyes irresistibly.

“Hm? Manamichi-kun?” Her voice snapped me back.

“Oh, uh, it’s nice,” I managed.

“Nice? Not cute? This one’s a favorite!” She spun again, clearly reveling in the moment, then chirped, “One sec,” before darting back to the hallway.

“Bam!”

She reappeared with a dramatic flourish.

“…A shark?”

Yup, a shark. Or rather, Makura being eaten by a shark. It was a front-zip, full-body shark costume pajama, the collar forming a shark’s head with sharp teeth framing her face as she peeked out. Her hair was tucked inside, making it look like she was fully engulfed. …Was that even comfy to sleep in?

“Hehe, what do you think? This one’s fun, right?” she beamed.

“Are you leaning a bit too hard into the gag here?”

“Hey, you could at least compliment me! I worked hard to put this on. It’s for winter, so it’s super hot!” Makura fanned herself with the shark’s fin-shaped hands.

“It’s got a dorsal fin too?”

“Pretty sure it does. Here, check it out!” She twisted to show her back.

Sure enough, a floppy dorsal fin jutted out. But my attention snagged on the gap in the front buttons caused by her twisting, revealing a glimpse of her snow-white stomach and the faint curve of her navel. Had she skipped a camisole because of the heat, or was she not wearing one at all? My eyes lingered, caught.

“Hm, can’t see it. Is it there?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s there, it’s there.”

“Right? The site said it’s all about realism!”

Seriously? Had that brand ever seen a real shark?

“Stuff like this or the last one—pajamas let you wear exactly what you want without caring about others’ eyes, right?” Satisfied, Makura bounded back to the hallway, her energy infectious. Maybe she’d been itching to show someone her massive pajama collection.

A bit later, she returned.

“Whoa!” I couldn’t help the sound that escaped me.

Classic pajamas—a light blue, frilly fabric set. The top was slightly long, tied with a ribbon bow at the collar. It was a standard style, but on a girl, it was impossibly cute.

“‘Whoa,’ huh? I almost skipped this since it’s so normal, but yeah, this type’s cute, right?”

“True, I’ve seen this kind before, but… it’s calming. Maybe because the last one was such a wild card.” I couldn’t shake the image of her sitting cross-legged on a bed in those pajamas—so homey, so reassuring.

“So? Does it suit me?” Makura tilted her body right, then left, then faced forward, spreading her arms to show off.

“The collar’s got a different fabric for detail, see?” She gathered her hair, revealing her nape. The fresh-out-of-the-bath vibe sent my heart racing.

Man, classic pajamas were powerful. And this shut-in girl’s looks? Top-tier. With a model like her, the pajamas’ charm shone even brighter.

“It suits you, those pajamas,” I said honestly.

“Haha, ‘suits the pajamas’ is high praise for me!”

With that, Makura headed back to the hallway.

Next came a fluffy, cozy-looking pair, then a baggy sweat set that somehow sparkled on her. After that, a green… tracksuit…?

“This is my middle school tracksuit! What do you think? It’s kinda cool, right?”

“……Yeah, it works.”

No, it really worked. It was overflowing with relatability.

Each time she changed, Makura struck a pose—spreading her arms, hands on thighs while swaying her hips, glancing over her shoulder, or sitting cross-legged with her chin on her knees.

“You’re kinda too good at posing, aren’t you?”

“Am I? I’m just trying what feels right,” she said, striking another pose, clearly having a blast.

Yeah, she was having fun. Makura was genuinely enjoying showing off her pajamas. Normally, you’d only share this with family or a boyfriend, right? The thought hit me, and the specialness of her pajamas skyrocketed in my mind.

“Alright, this is for you, Manamichi-kun—” Her earlier words echoed in my head. My heartbeat quickened, my face warming.

The next pair had a wide neckline, revealing her collarbone, in sleek black. The flared pants were loose, undeniably sexy. “This one’s cool and perfect for summer,” she said, glancing at me before tilting her head curiously.

“…Hm? What’s up? Your face is red.”

“No, it’s nothing…”

“Oh, you’re totally flushed! What’s wrong? Oh, I get it! You’re smitten with my pajama look! You’re embarrassed!” Makura’s grin turned teasing.

“No, it’s not just about being embarrassed… Isn’t it kind of a big deal to show your pajamas? Even parents might be one thing, but for couples, don’t they usually hold off on that at first? When you think about it, doesn’t it feel a bit shy-making?”

When I voiced my thoughts, her confident facade cracked. “C-C-Couple…” she stammered, her face now as flushed as mine felt.

“N-No way, that’s too much for you, Manamichi-kun! Besides, I’m fine with you seeing me in pajamas. You’re my shut-in buddy, after all!” Makura’s voice wavered, her earlier confidence replaced by a flustered rush to deflect.

“Shut-in buddy? That’s a new one,” I replied.

“A-Anyway, look at these pajamas! They’re a different vibe, but cool, right?” Hurriedly changing the subject, Makura leaned forward, striking another pose with forced enthusiasm.

That’s when it happened.

The wide neckline of her black pajamas slipped, revealing a glimpse of her cleavage down to her navel. Makura’s hand shot up, pressing against the fabric to cover herself, hiding the view in an instant.

“I-It’s kinda big, you know? I don’t have many black ones, so I bought it,” she said, carrying on as if nothing had happened. But her cheeks burned redder, her eyes darting side to side, betraying her obvious fluster.

“Yeah, it was pretty big,” I said, unable to stop myself.

I might be a study-obsessed guy, but I’m still a teenage boy—moments like this hit hard. ……What a view.

Through this pajama fashion show, I finally understood Makura’s obsession from every angle.

Yeah, pajamas really are the best.