“Why did it end up like this…?” Yun Shi’s sigh drifted like a torn kite in a crosswind.

“What, I didn’t toss you to Hokkaido. What’s your problem, sissy?” Maya Hanazaka fixed him with that dead-fish stare, cold as pond ice and twice as flat.

“Alright, alright. We finally get to relax, Bianqi~” The words bubbled like soda in summer shade.

“Yoshi, advance on the cake shop, little Yun!” The cheer cracked like a starter pistol.

“Um, Sham, maybe don’t think only about food…” The plea fluttered like a paper crane in a draft.

A flock of girls with clashing temperaments, and one “boy” in their midst—Yun Shi only wanted to say one thing, the thought beating like a caged sparrow.

All you 2D protagonists I mocked—my sins stack like fallen leaves in a storm!

Grief howled in Yun Shi’s chest like winter wind over bare fields.

Let’s rewind the clock, like turning back riverwater with cupped hands.

“Mizuki, what’s wrong—why are you yelling so loud I heard it from blocks away—eh, it’s the damn sissy!” The shout cracked the air like lightning on iron.

Crap—it’s the yuri perv! The thought bolted through Yun Shi’s head like a startled deer through brush.

A whole herd of curse-llamas thundered past in his mind like a dust storm down a canyon. With girls like her, Yun Shi had zero good will, a dry well under a cruel sun. Getting hit, scolded, judged like trash every day—only a masochist would smile at that, like a cactus craving hail.

“No way, you two—” Before Yun Shi could recover from aching eggs—no, aching chest—Maya Hanazaka clearly got the wrong idea, her gaze sharp as shards of glass.

“Maya, you’ve got it all wrong!” The protest leapt like a fish flashing upstream.

“Unforgivable! Flirting with my Mizuki? You already have Sham, and you’re still not satisfied? You sissy trying to start a harem—go die a hundred times!” Her roar rolled like thunder over a steel roof.

“Waa—Maya, why are you holding a metal bat—calm down, don’t do anything crazy!” Panic skittered like raindrops on hot stone.

The last thing he remembered was a glint of metal, quick as lightning on water—then darkness fell like a stage curtain.

— I blacked out; this is the fault line of sleep, a river of ink between two shores —

When he woke, he lay on the infirmary bed, the sheets cool as moonlight on snow. The ache returned like a ghost—phantom pain below, even though she no longer had the equipment, while everyone else swore she did.

Most people came here because of the school’s horror incidents, like moths singed by rumor-flame. He’d been caught by some terrorist’s trick too, yet he alone got carted in like trash. That girl always hit with measured hands, rain on bamboo, but today she’d sent him here for the first time.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—Maya knows she was wrong!” Mizuki bowed again and again, her hair falling like black silk curtains. The scene felt familiar, like footprints circling the same tree.

To get brained by something that hard and not die—that’s luck, a sparrow dodging the hawk by a feather. He wasn’t one of those protagonists who never stay down; even if he looked male, the body was female, delicate as porcelain after frost. One good swing and things go bad. For that, Yun Shi had only three words: it really hurts.

“Alright, you apologize too!” The demand snapped like a bamboo switch.

“No. Why should I apologize to a man…” The sulk hung like a storm cloud over a field.

“Ma-ya, I’m getting mad.” Mizuki’s voice chilled like shade under cedars.

“Uu… I get it… I’m sorry, Yunshi Bianqi…” Maya’s pride crumpled like wet paper, the bow small and stiff.

“What sin did I commit? That thing came down and I’m still alive—miracle, like a boat skimming past a whirlpool.” Yun Shi’s tone was dry as dust on a windowsill.

“I already lowered my head and apologized. What more do you want?” Maya’s glare flashed like flint.

“Was that an apology? That was phony, like plastic flowers in winter. I almost died, you know.” Yun Shi’s words hit like pebbles on a drum.

“I didn’t ship you off to Hawaii; what more do you want, sissy?” Maya huffed, hot as a teakettle.

“You’ve got nerve, you perv.” The retort cracked like a twig underfoot.

“Yun Shi Bianqi!”

“Maya Hanazaka!”

They faced off like two powder kegs nose to nose, sparks jittering like fireflies before an explosion.

“Maya, is that your attitude for apologizing?” Mizuki’s tone settled like mountain snow.

Bang! The chop landed like a sparrow’s wing, clean and quick.

“Uu… don’t hit me—karate chop—I’m wrong…” Maya wilted like a doused firework.

Only in front of a girl did she act tame, like a cat with its belly up.

“Sorry, Bianqi.” Mizuki’s apology fell soft as rain on rice shoots.

“I really want to wring Hanazaka Maya’s neck… Fine. For your sake, I’ll let it go.” Yun Shi wasn’t one of those saintly protagonists; though she didn’t notice it, her patience had thinned since living as a girl, a thread stretched under frost. With people she disliked, she kept score, like tally marks on bamboo. Give it time, and she’d stop chasing.

To make amends, Miyuki Kiseki generously let Yun Shi assist with today’s investigation, and they set a plan to go shopping after school, the promise bright as lantern light at dusk.

For the first time, under Mizuki’s lead, Yun Shi worked through a string of tasks, beads on a cord. To be safe, Yun Shi pulled school security footage, eyes scanning like hawks over farmland, but found nothing. Of course—someone that skilled won’t get caught by a camera; their trail dissolved like mist. It had the Underworld’s scent all over it, cold as river stones at midnight.

While Yun Shi mulled that, Maya stomped her foot to vent, dust jumping like fleas. Mizuki had stuck with Yun Shi all day—approving forms, running checks; and since Mizuki and Yun Shi were in the same class, their time together filled the whole sky like migrating geese. Mizuki even ditched her to eat lunch with Yun Shi today, a betrayal sharp as citrus.

Not fair—that sissy stole Mizuki!

“Let’s end today’s investigation here. Thanks for your help, Bianqi~” Mizuki’s smile warmed like tea in porcelain.

“It’s nothing. I didn’t come here just to help you.” His voice cooled like shade under eaves.

“Thanks to you, I had it easy today.” Her gratitude rang like a bell at noon.

“Is that so… Then thanks for the compliment, Mizuki.” Yun Shi’s reply glimmered like dew on grass.

So not fair. Why can that sissy chat with Mizuki like old friends by a riverside?

Maya Hanazaka was very. Very. Not. Okay. Her jealousy smoldered like charcoal under ash.

“By the way, I’ll treat you to crepes.” Mizuki offered, the words sweet as steam from a griddle.

Big danger—can’t let Mizuki get conquered! The alarm clanged in Maya’s head like temple bells.

“Mizuki, can I come too?” Her smile stretched like a bowstring.

“Oh, sure.” Mizuki agreed, crisp as a breeze through wind chimes.

“Hello, Mizuki and Sham, are you free today…?” Her phone call purred like a cat against glass.

— and that brings us to the scene you saw, a ribbon tied back to its knot —

Maya didn’t trust her friend around some boy of unknown origin, so she stuck to them like a burr, and dragged two more friends along, Mizuki and Sham. She wasn’t that close with the pair yet, but for a yuri girl, building ties was easy as weaving grass. With this meetup, she’d block a budding couple and deepen bonds with two girls—two birds, one smooth stone.

After school, four girls and one boy—well, five girls in truth—headed out on a youth’s little journey, like dandelion fluff riding an evening wind. Ahem—shopping after school.

“Where should we go?” The question danced like sunlight on water.

“Cake shop!” The answer popped like a berry between teeth.

While the other girls chatted like sparrows on a wire, Yun Shi trailed with a sour face, clouds on a summer day. For a shut-in, going out with friends is rare as plum blossoms in snow—not for lack of friends, but for lack of words once outside, tongue tied like a kite string. Yun Shi was exactly that type.

“Hey, Yun Shi Bianqi, why are you dawdling? So many cute girls with you, and you still want to complain?” Maya’s jab flashed like a fishhook.

“I got it…” He sagged like a scarecrow in wind.

Too lazy to deal with the yuri gremlin, Yun Shi put on his dead-fish stare and trudged toward the cake shop, feet heavy as wet boots.

“Sorry to trouble you, Bianqi~” Mizuki’s warmth spread like steam over broth.

“It’s fine. It’s already like this.” His shrug fell like a leaf.

“Oh—one parfait for me.” Orders flew like confetti.

The girls brightened fast, smiles blooming like peonies. Different types, same glow.

To bystanders, a pack of cute high school girls had just walked in—oh, and a boy tucked among them, like a lone willow among cherries. Envy, jealousy, spite—murderous glares shot over like arrows from a dark treeline, and sitting there felt like a target pinned to straw.

Yun Shi was scared of those looks, spines on a sea urchin. So many eyes, never resting, like cicadas in endless chorus. It’s just girls around me—why the pitchforks?

Brother at the counter, don’t pull a kitchen knife, please—steel flashing like stormlight.

Jealousy brigade, don’t raise those “Judgment” signs—cardboard like gravestones in a field.

And you, Miss Clerk, don’t reach for the phone to call the cops—I’m not some playboy, just a leaf in the wrong wind.

Guys, don’t look at me like I killed your father—the chill bites like sleet.

Under a hail of stares, sanity cracks; no wonder people fear being watched, like owls under noon sun. Harem-protagonist boys—you’re my idols now, banners snapping in the gale. I won’t trash you again.

As the “only boy” in sight (to everyone else), Yun Shi’s stiff face clashed with the girls’ sparkle like charcoal in a bouquet. First impression screamed: serves you right for trying to start a harem!

“Bianqi, what’s wrong?” Mizuki noticed his egg-aching expression, pain written like ink on rice paper.

“It’s nothing. I just realized armchair otaku, watching from a god’s-eye view, are damned beyond measure—like judges hurling stones from a hill.” His laugh was hollow as a gourd.

“Huh? What does that even mean?” Mizuki blinked, eyes clear as creekwater.

“You don’t have to get it. Kid, you’re too sweet.” He waved it off like smoke.

Of course Mizuki didn’t get it—if she did, she wouldn’t be herself, a cedar standing straight.

Yun Shi sighed, long as dusk light on old steps. Lately he’d been acting like a fool—just his imagination, drifting like mist.

“Right, Bianqi’s a boy. It’s normal not to enjoy girly stuff. How about the arcade?” Mizuki’s suggestion rang like a bell in a windy hall.

“Not bad, Mizuki.” Yun Shi’s relief opened like a window.

“What, the arcade? I’m in!” Maya’s eyes sparked like flint.

“Another cream puff!” Sham beamed, sugar-dusted as a snow bun.

“Um, I’m fine with anything.” The last voice folded like soft linen.

The words landed, and the girls chimed in, birds in a banyan. Ignore the foodie—let her orbit sweets like a moth around a lantern.

Yun Shi didn’t object because he wanted to dodge those knife-like stares. Another minute under them and he’d catch a phobia, a moth pinned in glass.

Mizuki, simple and kind, remembered she’d invited Yun Shi out to have fun; not considering his feelings would be rude, like stepping on a tatami with muddy shoes. She aimed for his interests, a compass needle settling.

Maya was excited for the arcade, eager to show off, sparks already dancing in her palms.

The other two… please auto-filter, like static in the rain.

So when they actually entered the arcade, only Maya went truly wild, a storm unbottled.

“Ho-ho-ho-ho! With this level you think you can beat a master like me? Take that—die, die, die!” Her fingers flew like swallows, her avatar reaping like a scythe through wheat.

In battle-mode, she was scarier than the student crowd, her technique honed by years like a blade whet on stone. A few boys who thought they ruled the arcade slapped their own faces, pride falling like cracked tiles.

“Scary, Hanazaka…” Mizuki whispered, trembling like a leaf in rain, inching back to the wall.

“Such energy, Maya~” Sham smiled, crescent-bright, while who knew what tallies clicked behind her eyes, abacus beads sliding like rain.

Bored, Yun Shi found a cabinet and started playing, hands moving like tides.

As for Mizuki, she didn’t know what to do; she just looked around, eyes drifting like clouds across a summer sky.

“Ultimate kill—the world-ender just dropped, whoa, whoa…” Don’t mind the girl seeing red, a blade gleaming in her eyes like dawn on steel.

“Huh?”

Yunshi spotted Mizuki at a claw machine. A coin chimed like rain, her cute gaze fixed on a plush like a cat at a fishbowl—then defeat fell over her face like fog.

“Mizuki, what’s up?”

Curiosity tugged Yunshi forward, voice kept soft as silk. Girls like Mizuki were her type, so interest flickered like a small flame.

“Ah, it’s nothing, Yunshi Bianqi…” Mizuki turned away, cheeks pink as peach skin, eyes skittering like a shy sparrow.

Yunshi scanned the claw machine: a carnival of stitched beasts, every shape under neon. As an otaku, she could guess what hook snagged Mizuki’s heart.

“So, which one caught your eye?”

“Eh? I—I didn’t…”

Shame rose like warm steam; showing taste to the opposite sex felt mortifying. Mizuki stuttered, words tangling like thread.

“What’s the problem?”

Yunshi simply didn’t see it; waves of thought smoothed out. She’d been a boy once—private hobbies barely ruffled her.

“I… that…” Heat flushed up her neck like sunrise to her ears. Fingers twisted like tender vines; she stood at a loss.

“If you’re upset you can’t grab it, I can snag it for you.”

“N-no, you don’t have to…”

“Cut the fuss. Which one?”

Impatient, Yunshi sliced in, her voice a clean blade. Mizuki flinched, then dipped her already blushing face and buzzed:

“Killer Octopus…”

You’d think it odd for a girl to fancy that, right?

Sure enough, when Yunshi looked, the world’s malice washed over like a cold tide. Those tentacles—don’t tell me—why did they scream déjà vu, like the beeped-out tentacle stuff from certain shows? Do girls really like something this heavy?

Still, taste is personal; stick to the gentleman’s grace. Yunshi slid in a coin, face calm as still water the whole time.

Clawing a toy wasn’t hard; if an otaku couldn’t manage this, laughter would ride the wind.

“Oh, got it…” The claw closed like a hawk’s talons.

Mizuki’s eyes flared like twin comets, a sudden blaze—then she caught herself and reddened deep as cherries.

“Um, Yunshi…”

“Here. You wanted this, right?” Yunshi passed the prize, warm from her palms like a tiny hearth—no, she gave it to her.

“Yunshi, don’t you think it’s weird—liking this kind of thing…”

As a girl, liking something this hardcore—people would find it odd, like a storm cloud over spring.

That shame pooled like ink, too thick to lift; Mizuki hesitated to accept it.

“Liking things is personal freedom. Why fuss?” Yunshi’s tone was a breeze over grass.

“Eh?”

“And it’s not like I haven’t seen this stuff.” She’d weathered storms; waves don’t scare the shore.

Yunshi gave a wry smile. Back when she binged shows, tentacle bits were everywhere; she’d seen worse—cannibal shock, gut-splitting gore, stomach-turning scenes. Even full-on S&M. A seasoned otaku’s seen the horizon; she doesn’t topple easy.

“Really? I don’t fully get it, but you don’t think it’s weird, right, Yunshi?”

“Mm? Mm.” She nodded, slow as falling petals.

“Thank goodness, I was worried~” Relief fluttered from her like a white moth.

Mizuki showed a childlike smile, pure as first light. Warmth filled Yunshi, a quiet ember—seeing that smile was worth it.

“Yunshi, you’re such a good person. Sorry for misunderstanding you and Sham-chan before. Don’t worry, I’ll support you!”

Hey, don’t just friendzone me with a good-guy card—and quit flashing that thumbs-up like confetti.

“Why do I feel a draft of malice… is it just me?”

“What are you muttering?” Her brow curved like a crescent.

“Ah, nothing. By the way—Maya Hanazaka’s over there slaughtering the arcade. You’re really not going to stop her?”

Across the row of cabinets, the yuri warrior fought like a storm, buttons popping like sparks. No wonder she crushes people—this is where her blade was forged.

“Oh, right…”

Yunshi seemed to recall something. She turned and scanned the mountain of plush, thoughts spinning like wind over a field.