Nobita walked home with a spring in his step, the pink jar of Face Cream and the Forgotten Stick tucked safely in his pocket. The moment he stepped into his room and locked the door, he opened the jar and scooped a thick blob of the strange cream onto his fingers.
He stared into the mirror, already deciding.
*Gian's face. Perfect.*
He smeared the cream across his cheeks, forehead, and chin, then closed his eyes and focused hard on every detail of Takeshi Gouda's appearance — the thick eyebrows, the loud mouth, the bulky build, the exact expression Gian always wore when he was about to punch someone.
A warm tingling spread over his skin. When Nobita opened his eyes again, the mirror no longer showed his usual weak face. Looking back at him was Gian. The same height, the same stocky body, the same rough voice ready in his throat.
Nobita grinned, and the grin belonged to Gian.
"Let's go cause some trouble," he muttered in Gian's voice.
His original plan had been simple: walk straight to Shizuka's house, use Gian's face to get inside, and finally get his hands on Shizuka's mother. The numbers above Mrs. Minamoto's head had been tempting him for weeks. But as he stepped outside and started walking, a new idea bloomed in his mind.
Whatever he did right now would be blamed on Gian.
The real Gian would wake up tomorrow and have no idea why people were suddenly furious with him. The thought alone made Nobita's cock twitch inside Gian's borrowed pants.
He didn't head straight to Shizuka's house.
Instead, he first made a stop at the empty lot where the kids usually played baseball. A few younger boys were still there, tossing a ball around. When they saw "Gian" approaching, they immediately tensed up.
Nobita (as Gian) cracked his knuckles and put on the biggest, meanest smirk he could manage.
"Oi! You little rats still playing in *my* lot? Hand over the ball. Now."
The boys froze. One of them, a skinny kid, tried to protest. Nobita didn't give him the chance. He snatched the ball, then deliberately threw it as hard as he could into the nearby river. The splash was loud.
"Next time I see any of you here, I'll break your arms," he growled in perfect Gian fashion. "Get lost!"
The boys scrambled away in terror. Nobita watched them run, already imagining the complaints that would reach the real Gian's house later.
But that wasn't enough.
He next walked past Suneo's mansion and stopped in front of the expensive car parked outside. Using a sharp rock, he scratched a long, ugly line down the entire side of the shiny black vehicle. Then, for good measure, he kicked the side mirror until it hung by a single wire.
"Sorry, Suneo," Nobita whispered with a grin that belonged to Gian. "Your best friend just ruined your dad's car."
Still not satisfied, he continued toward the shopping street. There, he deliberately bumped into an old woman carrying bags of groceries, hard enough to send everything spilling across the sidewalk. Apples rolled into the gutter. He didn't even pretend to help. He just barked, "Watch where you're going, hag!" in Gian's loud voice and kept walking.
People stared. A few shopkeepers muttered under their breath. Someone was already pulling out a phone, probably to call Gian's mother.
Nobita felt a dark thrill. Every single one of these acts would land on the real Gian's head. The more chaos he caused, the better.
By the time he finally turned onto the quiet residential street where Shizuka lived, his mood was excellent. The Face Cream still held strong. He looked, sounded, and even felt like Gian.
He stopped in front of the Minamoto house and looked up at the second-floor window where Shizuka's mother sometimes appeared.
*Mrs. Minamoto…*
The numbers above her head had always been lower than Mrs. Honekawa's, but that only made the idea of raising them more exciting. With Gian's face, he could walk right up to the door. Shizuka would open it without suspicion. Her mother would invite "Gian" inside out of politeness.
And once the door closed behind him…
Nobita licked his lips with Gian's tongue and stepped up to the front door.
He raised a thick fist and knocked.
The real game was about to begin.