Her period, that storm, finally passed. She should feel relief, but Yun Shi felt a fresh knot tighten.

“Mmm...”

She sat cross-legged at the bed’s edge, arms folded like a shield, eyes shut like sealed doors. Her brows drew taut like a bowstring, worry rising and falling like a tide. After a long spell, she opened her eyes; a spark of resolve flared like a struck match.

“That damn Sham...”

The memory of Sham’s stunt burned like chili on the tongue. Anger surged, yet she had no blade to swing back.

Today was special—a day bright as lanterns for girls who were always tangled together like vines. To them, Yun Shi was the lone “boy,” but the friendship hung light and easy, like wind through bamboo.

Today was Miyuki Kiseki’s sixteenth birthday.

Birthdays never called to Yun Shi; her thorny nature snagged on festivity like a sleeve on a branch. Even when she tried to offer blessings, her hands would fumble like rain-soaked matches. Aside from the echo of last life’s gatherings, she barely marked birthdays—hers or anyone’s. Yet today, the sky tilted; she said yes.

When Mizuki invited everyone, she turned to Yun Shi with hopeful eyes like clear water. Sham expected a cold refusal. Unexpectedly, Yun Shi just gave a small nod—simple as a stone dropped in a pond—no awkward flourish, which stunned Sham like thunder in blue noon.

Yun Shi planned to drift in casually. But then... her wardrobe got raided like a pantry after a typhoon.

“Little Yun, how can you visit a friend in your school uniform? That’s rude~ So, I ‘borrowed’ your clothes. Relax, it’s just pants; I won’t force a skirt~ Mizuki’s looking forward to it. You’d better get a gift ready~”

A note lay in the empty wardrobe like a flag on a conquered hill. At the bottom, a chibi Sham grinned, tongue out, fingers in a V. Yun Shi could see that triumphant smirk as if carved in wind. Damn it—she cleaned me out. If she doesn’t return them tomorrow, what do I wear to school?

“Ugh...”

She picked up the single pair of pants Sham left—a plain cropped pair, neutral cut but tilted feminine like a willow’s sway. A regular boy could wear them fine, but on Yun Shi... disaster. With her pretty-boy shell, she’d tip into even softer lines, and no one would think “boy.”

Despair nipped her like winter frost. She reached for the only wearable pants and a white shirt. Just as she started to change, stubbornness flared like a last ember; she hurled the clothes aside and dug under her bed for a box. She remembered there was one left! She opened it—emptiness, and another chibi Sham smiling like a cat on a fish rack. Hope died like a candle in wind.

“Damn—pulling the black-bellied act now, you rotten Sham!”

Checkmate. If she weren’t “girl disguised as boy,” Sham would’ve handed her a skirt ages ago.

Resigned, Yun Shi changed.

When she stepped out, she was the same and not—the moon in a new phase. The white shirt hugged her lines like water against stone; hints of girlish curves flickered like reflections, mostly hidden. The cropped pants sat simple, yet on her they had pull like magnet. Two slices of pale, slender calf peeked out like porcelain; any otaku would howl, “I could worship those legs for a year!”

Her short hair was pinned up, adding a shadowy softness, a petal of cute. Even with light makeup to push her face toward “male,” her femininity shone through like spring under thin ice. With one glance at this look, no one would link her to her everyday self. Clothes frame the portrait; when Yun Shi, who rarely paints, does, she’s striking as a brushstroke on silk.

Aside from the flat plain at her chest...

She sighed deep; she seldom dressed like this, and the world’s malice felt thick as humid fog. But facts sit like mountains. The “boy-in-girlswear” could only drift to the entryway and open the door slow as a tide.

Outside air was clearer, a cool stream compared to the closed-room heat. The street felt smooth as raked sand, but stares swarmed like moths to a lantern. Not the murder-eyes she knew, sharp as knives; now boys’ eyes glowed with worship like candles, and girls’ eyes brimmed with envy and soft delight, caught by the “cute.” In this outfit, she looked like a middle-schooler, not a high-schooler at all. She sighed; some faces stay baby-sweet like peaches.

“Ahem, miss...”

Halfway there, a background pretty boy popped up, playing gentleman like a peacock. Yun Shi **ignored** him like wind passing a stone. Interest? None. A boy doesn’t enjoy getting hit on by a boy.

Look at his face—he tasted what a slap feels like. Yun Shi’s pride sits high as a crane; as long as she doesn’t tip into tsundere, she’s all hauteur, no honey. Her face stays cool as shade.

She sighed. She used to endure hateful stares like thorns; now adoring eyes poured over her like warm tea. A flick of vanity rose; deny it, and you lie. But she wanted to say it plain: I’m actually a boy...

She watched a few goofy boys walk into poles, thunks like drumbeats. No satisfaction bloomed; only a wince—this hurt to watch. How short-circuited do you have to be?

She stopped before a house; “Kiseki” hung carved on the wall like steady stone. She drew a long breath and pressed the bell.

Ding-ling~

“Coming~”

The door opened to a woman with that warm, wifely glow, beauty like soft light. She resembled Mizuki, petals from the same branch; her age said “mother.”

Yun Shi’s spine straightened like a pine. In front of beauty, one must mind one’s manners.

“Hello, Auntie. I’m Yunshi Bianqi.”

She bowed slightly; her voice flowed gentle as a stream; her movements fell natural as leaves. A homely grace circled her like incense. Ayako Kiseki felt fondness rise like morning mist.

“You’re Mizuki’s friend? Hello. The others already arrived. Come in~”

Her tone was silk-soft, and Yun Shi’s heart warmed like sun on tatami. Married women are the best.

Yun Shi’s gaze flicked, naughty as a sparrow, to Ayako’s ample curves—so full. Unfair. Vexing.

She slid her eyes away and followed into the genkan.

“You’re Yun Shi, right? Mizuki’s lucky to have you~”

“Not at all.”

“Hehe, don’t be so stiff. Don’t be scared. Auntie loves cute kids~”

“Do you...?”

What’s that got to do with me. Plainly, Yun Shi hadn’t noticed Ayako had already filed her under “girl.”

In the hall, several people gathered like flowers in a vase. Almost all were familiar.

Sham and Mizuki were deep in some debate; Sham’s fervor blazed like a bonfire—easy to guess the topic. Mai stood off to the side, hands busy as foxes, copping a feel of Yan Er. Yan Er pressed her head away, kept her from rubbing her chest; that coy push-and-pull sparked Mai’s boldness like flint. Mizuki tried to mediate with a wry smile; her troubled look still shone like dawn through clouds. On the sofa, a lazy college girl crunched chips and watched TV, sprawled like a cat; Yun Shi didn’t know her, but she was clearly Mizuki’s sister.

“Mizuki, your friend’s here~” Ayako called.

“Oh—sorry...”

Mizuki turned, apology on her face like rain—but then she froze, no, she lit up with astonishment like lightning. The other girls looked over and fell silent, stunned like deer in a beam. Sham excluded; her grin said “plan accomplished.”

“Yun... Yun?”

“Yeah, Mizuki. Is it that strange?” Yun Shi pressed her brow; a headache bloomed like a bruise.

“No, just surprising. It’s the first time you’ve worn anything but your uniform...”

True. After so long together, no one had seen Yun Shi in casual clothes. She wore the uniform like second skin. Today opened eyes like a curtain. Who knew that once the boys’ uniform came off, Yun Shi was this soft? The rumor proved itself: without the uniform, you couldn’t tell Yun Shi Bianqi was a boy.

“Hello, Little Yun. How’s it feel~” Sham’s punchable smile swam into view, a fish you’d love to smack.

“Hmph. No more lunch from me.” Yun Shi’s voice fell cool as winter water.

Sham wasn’t stupid; she heard the verdict and sagged like a wilted leaf.

“Ehhh! Yamete—don’t be like that!”

Let that wail drift away like steam.

“Yun Shi, you’re... tsk tsk, that’s art,” Mai breathed, eyes bright like twin stars.

“Hey, Yun Shi, are you really a guy?”

She wasn’t, not truly.

And Yan Er, stop wearing that look that says, As a woman, I lost. You didn’t. Honestly.

“I’m a guy.”

Don’t blame me for the lie; necessity is a hard cliff. The “trap” in front of you is, in fact, a girl.

But none of that can be voiced.

“Eh? Mizuki, what do you mean?” Ayako was still in the fog; unease crept like a chill, and she turned to her daughter.

“Ah, um... Mom, well... Yun Shi is a boy.” Mizuki’s tongue stumbled; the words felt like chewing ice. Try pointing to a girl and calling it a boy—what feeling is that?

“Pff!!” The college sister sprayed juice like a burst spring.

Yes, that’s the scene.

“Mizuki, you’re sure you’re not messing with me?”

She coughed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand; fear crawled across her face like a shadow. Joke, and die.

“I wish it were a joke...” Mizuki’s deadpan cut like a blade.

“A boy... then that’s the boyfriend you—mmph!”

Before the sparks could fly, Mizuki clapped both hands over her sister’s mouth; her smile flushed peony-red, terrified she’d blurt a bomb.

“Hey, Mizuki Kiseki, what are you doing?” Yun Shi watched, a bead of sweat sliding like dew.

“Right—Yun Shi, where’s your present?”

Yan Er suddenly remembered, turning to her like a compass needle.

“Like I’d prepare that.”

Yun Shi shrugged; gifts left her cold as stone.

...

“Y-you came empty-handed?” Yan Er’s face twitched; her finger shook as she pointed at Yun Shi, disbelief misting over her like winter fog.

Guy’s got nerve; he turned up to a birthday empty-handed, like bringing only winter wind. Never seen that.

At Yun Shi’s words, everyone’s gaze went odd, like fish under ice, toward the man with the calm face.

How “amazing” must he be, strutting like a heron on thin ice?

“Ah, it’s fine, really—just a speck of dust on the sleeve.”

A small ache flickered like a shadowed ember, but Mizuki waved it off with a smile, like brushing pollen from her hand.

“As long as you came, Yun, I’m happy—like a lantern lit in my chest.”

She smiled, her gaze soft on Yun Shi, like spring light smoothing a pond.

“Oh—th-this side of Mizuki… like a knife under silk.” Zhen Yinzi looked as if a thunderclap cracked a clear sky and stumbled back a few steps.

“Our Mizuki’s at that age, huh—buds opening whether we like it or not.”

“Hey, don’t get the wrong idea, you two—pull your thoughts out of the reeds.”

Cheeks blooming crimson, Mizuki snapped at the two with wandering minds, like a sparrow puffing up at cats.

Watching, Yun Shi felt a helpless sigh stir like wind on a chime. Still, he kept a faint smile for Mizuki, a thin moon behind cloud.