The room wasn’t big. Furniture stood in clean ranks, white washing the space like fresh snow, simple as a blank scroll, tidy as folded paper.

On the computer desk, tools lined up like soldiers. On a shelf, figurines clustered like tiny idols, mostly cute anime girls smiling under plastic sheen.

There were famous faces—Railgun’s Misaka, Touka Kirishima, Asuna, Saber, C.C.—and a few boys, like Kirito, Kaneki, and the ever-theatrical Lelouch, their stares frozen in resin.

On the bed lay a boyish girl’s treasure, a Hatsune Miku body pillow, its neon hair like a streak of soda green against white sheets.

The air smelled of otaku, like warm plastic and instant noodles, yet the problem didn’t live in the room’s layout at all.

She’d snuck out with cat food to feed strays, shadowing alleys like a guilty moon. She got caught—by Miyuki Kiseki.

Mortification crashed over her like a cold wave. Shame stung like chili in her eyes; she couldn’t believe Miyuki had seen that soft-lipped look.

Yun Shi admitted it—she didn’t want anyone to see her gentle side. Pride pricked like thorns, and secrets felt safer in the dark.

If people learned the her that didn’t match her usual mask, anxiety gnawed like rats. She feared losing hard-won ground to one glimpse.

So being seen by Mizuki, she panicked. Her mind ran like a startled cat, refusing to picture Miyuki’s eyes on a crumbling pride.

She fled then, heart beating like a trapped sparrow. She couldn’t stay, couldn’t risk whatever would come next in that alley.

But now Yun Shi had a bigger storm to face, one that rolled through her body like thunder in a jar.

“Ugh…” Her hand pressed her lower belly. She hunched by the bedside, shoulders shivering, face pale as paper with dew-fine sweat beading her brow.

“Oh, come on…” Swearing swelled like steam; of all times, it had to be now.

Cramps twisted, a dull knife carving her lower stomach. She felt the warm slide of crimson between her thighs, dotting the poor sheet like petals.

Fourteen years into this second life, her first period had finally slammed into her like an uninvited tide.

“Could you be any more unfair?” she muttered, voice thin as thread, forcing her body up to stop the bleeding below.

Her face tangled with conflict, eyes flicking like moths. As a boy before, she’d only heard about periods; as a girl now, she’d never lived one.

Truth was, she barely understood girls. Habit clung like old smoke; the past life’s reflexes lingered, and being a girl felt like a costume.

Only now did her body remind her with a sharp tap: you’re a girl. The fact settled like snow on a silent roof.

The boy-memory blurred like ink in rain. She was different—body and mind—hormones weaving quiet threads, feelings fluttering like silk flags in wind.

“Right… I’ve got to deal with my monthlies,” she sighed, her tone a soft gust.

She had to go out for pads. No way around it.

The thought flushed her cheeks like dawn. Pride burned like a stubborn coal; buying pads herself felt like walking on stage naked.

She had no female clothes, only a boy’s uniform. A small man, a big embarrassment; whatever you called it, going out felt humiliating.

Yun Shi thought, then grabbed her phone like a lifeline and dialed a familiar number.

“Hey, good evening, little Yun~ What’s up?” Sham’s voice bubbled like soda.

“Sham, I think I hit the biggest crisis of my life…” Her words sagged, weak as a wilting leaf.

“Oh? Is it…” Curiosity leaned in like a cat at the door.

“Mm, it’s… I… that… you know what I mean…” Shame stuck like rice in her throat.

“Little Yun, don’t tell me you fell for some boy!” Sham chirped, excitement popping like fireworks.

“Pfft!!” Yun Shi’s sputter sprayed the moment like a burst valve.

Her pauses had sounded scandalous enough. Sham leapt to the wrong cliff without a rope.

“Nani, Yunshi-kun actually likes men!” Another girl’s voice chimed in, cool as ice water—Mizuki—familiar enough to drop her stomach.

“Hey, Mizuki, what are you doing!” Sham snapped, panic fluttering like a trapped sparrow.

“Sham-chan, is this true? Yunshi-kun, he actually…” Mizuki gasped, drama swirling like a storm.

“Calm down! And why are you shouting like that—” Sham hissed, words tripping like marbles.

“You were loud enough to wake the street!” Mizuki clapped back, heat crackling.

“And you had to overhear right now?!” Sham howled, mortification sparking.

Yun Shi had suspected it—Sham popped up at Mizuki’s place every other day; the two were practically cohabiting like mischievous cats.

Not that it mattered. The problem was elsewhere.

“Seriously! Sham, you big idiot!” She snapped and hung up, the click sharp as a knife.

She tossed the phone onto the bed, anger buzzing like a hornet. Another cramp stabbed, a red line sliding down her thigh.

“I’ll just go myself…” she breathed, resignation falling like slow rain.

Sham was hopeless—a foodie, sometimes sly, always chaos. Best not to invite trouble.

Yun Shi grabbed tissues, wiped the blood, and layered a few inside her underwear like makeshift armor. She staggered to the wardrobe.

Unlike others, her closet held only a few pieces—Rakuyoku High School uniforms, crisp as origami. Not a single private outfit in sight.

She took one and dressed with practiced motions, fabric settling like a calm lake across her frame.

Then it hit her—she hadn’t bound.

Clothes on, but no chest binder, like wearing a shirt without a bra. Not a big gap, but enough to nag.

She sighed, a small wind through reeds. Laziness draped her shoulders; her chest was small anyway, and the jacket smoothed her lines.

As usual, she wore no makeup. She often used a light touch to tilt her face more boyish, a mist rather than paint.

But period pain had arrived like heavy weather, and she wasn’t in the mood for brushes and shades.

Ready enough, Yun Shi slipped out, each step careful, pain tapping her belly like a stubborn drum. She just wanted pads and home.

She tied her hair, neat as a looped ribbon, and walked toward the nearest shop under the soft hum of neon.

She’d steeled herself, but holding the pads felt like carrying a red flag. Shame flushed her face hot, almost making her drop the plan.

For the greater good, she clenched her courage, hands trembling as she set a pack on the counter like contraband.

“Six hundred yen. Little… sister, first time buying?” The cashier leaned in, voice gentle as warm tea.

She’d been about to ask if he was buying for a girlfriend, but saw the lowered head, the oversized sleeves, the tiny frame.

Her eyes flicked to a faint rise at the chest, subtle as a hill under snow. Sharp gaze, quick conclusion: girl.

“Mm.” Yun Shi didn’t realize she’d been read, just thought her face was too delicate and got mistaken. She didn’t lift her head.

“Take care of yourself, little sister~” The cashier smiled, bagging the goods with the crisp rustle of plastic, watching the boyish girl leave.

Out at last. Home—fast, please. The thought ran like water down a slope.

Her face still burned, a lingering sunset. She just wanted to solve her monthlies and curl up like a cat.

But life loves mischief. When you pray not to meet someone, fate sets you on a collision course, especially at your most awkward.

“You. Yunshi Bianqi?” The voice cut through the night like a bell.

Yun Shi stopped, lifted her head, and her expression froze like ice on a pond.

“…Maya Hanazaka.” Of all people.

Of course it was her. Inside, she moaned like a mourning wind, colliding with the perverted yuri girl at exactly the worst time.

What do I do! Her thoughts crashed, screen going blue; she had no script for this mess.

“What’s with that saw-a-ghost face!” Maya snapped, eyes sharp as glass. Night had dressed her in a long-sleeved tee and denim shorts, lively as a firefly.

But none of that was the issue.

(Seeing you is the ghost, what else?) Yun Shi spat in her heart, sarcasm coiling like smoke.

“Am I that terrifying you, little sissy, are shaking?” Maya arched a brow, teasing like a flicked fan.

(Scary? More like demon.) Yun Shi grumbled inwardly, a tiny thunder.

“So, what are you doing here?” Maya leaned in, curiosity pricking like a pin.

… Cold sweat burst like rain. Yun Shi edged back a step on instinct.

“You—you tell me, what are you doing out…” Her gaze skittered, trying to drag the topic elsewhere like a net.

“I came to buy pads. What about you?” Maya said it like a breeze, no shame, words landing with cheerful thuds.

(Sis, if you’re buying, just buy. Saying it to a boy—no issue for you, huh.) Yun Shi’s mental complaints stacked like dominoes.

“By the way… you look different tonight.” Maya’s eyes narrowed; the boyish face felt more like a real girl—long lashes, pale and soft as tofu.

“You—you must be seeing things… Right, I’ve got to go.” Panic tugged her feet; she took a few steps, ready to flee.

A bolt of pain speared her belly, sharper than before, stopping her cold. Her hand clutched her stomach, face white as chalk.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Maya stepped closer, worry softening her edges. Their beef wasn’t that deep; pain wiped old scores like rain.

“I’m fine… I—I’ll go first…” Yun Shi’s voice frayed like old rope, feet trying to move.

“Stop. What’s in your bag?” Maya’s voice cracked like a whip. She’d caught a glimpse.

Sanitary pads.

What’s this sissy buying that for? Something’s off, like a thorn under the nail.

“I-I-I...” Her words snagged like a fish on a hook.

The girl in boy’s clothes cursed inwardly, and she sped up like a startled deer breaking from the reeds.

“Don’t move!” Maya Hanazaka’s voice cracked like a whip in dry air.

Maya threw her arms wide, a gate across a mountain pass, blocking her way.

Another cramp twisted Yun Shi’s lower belly like a cold hand; sweat beaded on her brow like dew before dawn. She just wanted to go home.

“Hey, don’t think I don’t know what you bought.” Her tone pecked like a crow at grain.

—!

“Why did you buy sanitary pads.” The question dropped like a stone into a pond.

...

“Say it.” The demand beat like a drum in a tight room.

...

“Ha. Don’t tell me you’re that much of a perv. You need those to handle your... bodily problem?” Her sneer slithered like a snake in scrub.

(In a way, yes. But don’t look at me like I’m scum, like frost on a weed.)

“I... I bought them for my girlfriend...” The lie was hard as a shell; she couldn’t admit the truth.

“Oh? Tell that to ghosts. You, a sissy, have a girlfriend? Think I’m three? You piece of scum.” Her words were thorns in a hedgerow.

“I... I can’t be bothered with you. I’m going home.” The words were clipped, like leaves in a sudden wind.

Her body was off today, a storm brewing in her gut; she couldn’t waste another breath. Yun Shi just wanted to get home and change, because the pain gnawed like icy teeth.

Even if they called her a perv later, let it be, like dust on a coat. Even if Maya Hanazaka spat curses, let them fall like summer rain. Yun Shi only needed to hurry home.

“Hmph. You think I’ll let you go, you perv?” Maya stood firm like a boulder in a stream.

With her belly already tearing like twisted vines, Yun Shi couldn’t force her way through. Blocked like a cart at a narrow bridge, she had no move to play.

“I...” The pain knifed again, a red tide rising; if she didn’t get back now, it’d be too late, and the tissue would fail like a paper dam.

Big crisis, think, think—her thoughts scattered like startled sparrows.

She could not let this yuri-obsessed perv see, not now, not like this.

“Maya Hanazaka... I’m begging you. Let me go...” Her voice was wet paper, ready to tear.

Yun Shi clutched her belly, bowing through pain like bamboo in wind. Humiliation burned; tears fogged her eyes like mist over a lake. Her pride, porcelain-thin, shattered in a breath. She wanted to cry, but couldn’t; to beg this person—bitter as chewing wild herbs.

Why me. Why this, like heaven playing a cold joke.

Head lowered, she spoke softer than dust settling on a windowsill.

“You...” For the first time, Maya saw her like this and froze, shock washing her clean; all her venom rose like smoke and disappeared into blue sky.

“What’s wrong?” Her tone softened, a spring drizzle over parched earth.

Yun Shi didn’t want to tangle; she stepped away like a fish slicing current. But after a few steps, pain buckled her knees; she staggered, about to fall, like a willow in a gust.

“Careful!” Maya lunged to catch her, a swallow diving, but her foot snagged on an outstretched foot like a root in the dark. She pitched forward, balance gone like sand under a wave.

“Ah!” “Ah!” Two clear cries rang out like twin chimes.

They hit the floor together, two sparrows tumbling from a branch.

“Ow, ow...” Maya groaned, sprawled atop someone, pushing up with her hands like bracing on river stone.

Why’s it so soft underneath, and why so fragrant, like flowers after rain? And the floor under her right hand—so soft, strangely nice to the touch, like silk over a ripe peach.

Maya squeezed, instinctive as a curious child testing fruit.

Heaven bear witness, she didn’t mean it; curiosity tugged the thread, and the tapestry tore.

“Ah~” The sound unfurled like silk in warm wind, unmistakably a girl’s voice.

What the— that voice, a girl?!

Maya looked down at the one she’d pushed over and went rigid, frost-struck. Beneath her, Yun Shi’s face burned red as maple leaves; her eyes were hazed like morning mist. Her clothes were rumpled, a glimpse of snow-white skin showing like moonlight on jade.

Most important of all, Maya’s hand was pressing on the girl’s...

...

“Y-y-y-y-you... a girl!!!” The shout cracked like thunder over a summer field.

“Ahhh— get off me!” Yun Shi’s cry burst like a startled pheasant from tall grass.