“What are you doing?!” Her cry rang like wind chimes hit by a sudden squall, the sweetness sharp with panic that stung like pepper.

Pan the scene: a cramped otaku den glowed like a shrine of plastic idols, figurines shining like glass fish in a tank of neon.

A girl with violet twin-tails stood like two irises swaying in spring wind, wearing a middle-school uniform and grinning like sunrise.

In her hand, she held an identical uniform, skirt and all, bright as a fresh plum, facing a “femboy (?)” whose blush burned like sunset.

“Is it really that hard to wear our school uniform?” Moa’s smile floated like a paper boat, yet her eyes were a stray-puppy rain.

Yun Shi felt a prickle of guilt like a thorn in the heel, then snarled like a cornered cat—no way was he getting moe-killed.

“N-no! I can’t wear this outside—how am I supposed to show my face after?” His arms crossed like a shield, his head jerked away like a skittish deer.

Yun Shi clenched hard, chest tight like a knotted rope, refusing to meet those sugar-spark eyes, while Moa’s grin deepened like a crescent moon.

“Relax, it’s just one day of girl clothes—no big deal,” she said, voice light as dandelions. “Besides, you haven’t reclaimed being a girl yet~”

“Thunder Lady!” His shout cracked like lightning through cloud.

“My name is Sawagawa Moa!” Her cheeks puffed like steamed buns. “I even stopped calling Night Phantom-chan and now say Yun Shi-chan. You call me that too!”

“...Get lost. I won’t.” The words dropped like pebbles, fierce in intent, cute as a kitten.

“Ehh, if Yun Shi-chan won’t say my name, I’ll go hard then!” Her smile straightened like a blade, soft eyes suddenly carrying storm-shadow.

“I—I’m warning you. Come closer and I’ll call the police. Seriously. I’ve got the phone—” Fear pooled like cold water as she shrank to the wall.

Moa’s hum was sly as a fox in snow. “I’ll dress Yun Shi-chan into a proper lady. Leave it to me~”

“You, you—ah, don’t come any closer!” Her voice fluttered like panicked sparrows.

“Heh, just surrender to me, Yun Shi-chan~” The tease slid like silk over thorns.

Is this that old saying—when two bottoms meet, one must be the top? What a load of bull!

—Wardrobe-change divider—

Summer hovered near like heat shimmering above asphalt; outside air pressed like a warm hand, and early daredevils wore short sleeves like flags.

Most people stayed modest, flowing like a river of steps; yet today, eyes drifted like moths to one bright lantern.

Two middle-school girls moved side by side like twin lilies. One had violet twin-tails, uniform tracing her budding shape like ink on rice paper.

Her happy face shone like peaches after rain, easy to approach like a sunny bench, and her gaze kept stealing toward her companion like a curious bird.

Her companion had long black hair falling like midnight silk, the same uniform skimming a young, slender form like a leaf’s first green.

She looked flat but future-bloomed like a branch in spring, cheeks blazing red as pomegranate, body trembling like reeds in evening wind.

Her hands pressed her skirt hem like a gate against flood, hoping that would stop any flash like lightning under clouds.

“I mean—the skirt’s way too short...” Her voice thinned like smoke; shame shook her lips like frost nibbling a pond.

“Our school’s skirts aren’t short,” Moa sighed, eyes dry as dust. “High school skirts are the real short daggers.”

She glanced at Yun Shi clutching her hem like a lifeline, mourning her war with skirts like a monk facing wine.

“Yun Shi-chan, you don’t like skirts? When you were a Witch, you wore skirts all the time,” she teased, voice sweet as plum syrup.

“That was different! There was a cape—security, you know?” Her words clung like a cloak. “And you won’t let me wear safety shorts—how am I supposed to live?”

“Listen up—safety shorts are the worst invention in human history,” Moa declared, palm on her shoulder like a seal. “They strangle our charm, so they’re banned.”

“Damn it! You just love flashing? I’m not handing out benefits!” Yun Shi’s blush spread like dawn, her retort biting like ginger.

She liked benefits—watching them, more like collecting them—yet when she was the one giving, her spine turned to jelly like melted snow.

She pictured chubby otaku and bespectacled geeks peeking up her skirt like rats seeking grain; nausea crawled like cold worms.

Getting “benefits” grabbed by a pack of creeps felt filthy as ditch water; the thought alone curdled like old milk.

She didn’t mean every otaku was ugly; in her last life, most shut-in friends were rough on the eyes, and it left her heart sore like bruised fruit.

Last life, Yun Shi’s looks were decent, the kind that might pass in a harem anime casting, a lantern among many lamps.

After rebirth, she didn’t fuss over her face; habit hung like dust on a shelf, settled and quiet in every sense.

Anyway, back to the thread. Because of Moa’s willful stunt like a kite tugging hard, Yun Shi now wore Mingya Middle School’s uniform outside.

“I’m clearly a high schooler. Why pretend to be in middle school...” She tugged the bow at her throat like a snagged ribbon, grumbling like a drumbeat.

“Correction: Yun Shi-chan pretends to be a high schooler,” Moa said, eyes bright as dew. “You’re my age, you just skipped grades. And you pretend to be a boy.”

“...” The silence folded like origami; there was no good angle to fight it.

“Then why let my hair down? Long hair’s a pain!” Yun Shi’s complaint hopped like a sparrow.

“Long hair looks best on girls,” Moa chimed, words ringing like silver bell. “You have that gift—use it, Yun Shi-chan~”

“...” Heat throbbed like live coals. Fury sprouted like thistles—still cute as a cotton puff.

“Relax. With long hair, you’re less likely to be recognized by acquaintances,” Moa soothed, voice cool as pond shade.

“...Fine. You win.” The surrender dropped like a leaf, soft and inevitable.

Moa’s smile deepened like tea steeping, color rich and warm.

School had just ended like a curtain falling, and Yun Shi—already home—got snagged by Moa’s mischievous grin like a hook in the stream.

So out came the girl clothes, and out they went like swans to water; two middle-school girls on a street wasn’t rare, just another ripple.

They walked shoulder-to-shoulder like two lanterns, chatting light about nothing, words fluttering like confetti.

Since meeting Moa, Yun Shi felt led by the nose like a bull with a red string, step after step into Moa’s chosen dance.

“So, Yun Shi-chan, how do you usually hide it? A girl pretending to be a boy sounds tough,” Moa asked, gaze lingering like sun on frost.

Her eyes dipped to that not-so-perfect chest like a curious moth, and Yun Shi cupped herself by reflex, fingers tight as clasped petals.

“Ahem... why ask that?” Her voice tried for calm, rippled like a pond under breeze.

“Just curious,” Moa said, tone airy as clouds. “What’s different, boy versus girl? Do you hide your chest every day, Yun Shi-chan?”

“Of course I do. No way a guy has... this.” The word stuck like a burr; grief welled like rain in a well.

Right—boys don’t have this. Heaven could be cruel as winter wind, reminding her every hour she was now a girl; the ache dripped like wax.

“I see. That’s rough,” Moa murmured, compassion soft as moss.

Yun Shi squatted in spirit, doodling circles like a child in dust, mumbling, “I’m a guy, ugh,” “a girl, still a girl...” like waves hitting shore.

She felt the heat of strangers’ stares like hungry wolves; being watched always grated like grit in a shoe.

Worse—these gazes were different, charged like summer air before thunder, and it knotted her gut like vines.

“Don’t mind them, Yun Shi-chan. Let’s go have fun!” Moa’s laughter rang like bells tossed in the wind.

“Hey, Thunder Lady...” The call was weary as dusk.

“Call me Moa!” Her hand grabbed Yun Shi’s like a warm ribbon, tugging toward places girls usually play, bright as candy stalls.

Yun Shi pressed her skirt again like a gate against dogs, determined not to flash; the breeze below was cold as river water and maddening.

How did Moa and other girls run without flashing? The doubt buzzed like a bee trapped behind glass.

Moa just wanted to show her a good time, to taste the small joys of being a girl like sweet beans on rice.

Maybe Moa overthought it; Yun Shi seemed to lack that “girl awareness,” a bud closed tight like a shy camellia.

“Come on, come on, Yun Shi-chan~” Her voice lilted like a flute.

“I’m saying—maybe not...” The refusal drooped like a wilting leaf.

“No way! Ready—cheese~” Moa posed like a sunflower, bright and shameless.

“It’s just a photo booth sticker, not a movie premiere!” Yun Shi’s snark sparkled like chili oil, extra cute today for no reason.

“Hey hey, Yun Shi-chan, which style should I wear~” Moa’s words twirled like ribbons in a parade.

“Ahh, my eyes! I’m not looking at underwear!” Yun Shi yelped like a kitten caught in yarn, and shoppers glanced over like owls.

“Say ah~” The coax came sweet as syrup.

“Can you not feed me?” Her protest puffed like steam.

“Ah~” The spoon pressed like a cloud against lip.

“Ugh... fine.” One bite, crisp as an apple; her favor rose like fireworks—petals everywhere.

It was just girls’ shopping, ordinary as bread, yet for Yun Shi it felt fresh as first snow—her first trip out as a girl with girls.

She remembered the past: Yunshi Bianqi would show up with a few girls like stars around a moon, but people saw her as a boy and glared knives.

Now, there was no envy or hate cutting like hail; stares felt normal, some even walked into poles like sleepers on dawn paths.

“A girl, huh...” She spread her palm, seeing a small, pale hand like porcelain, nothing like a boy’s; her thoughts drifted like mist over fields.

In this life, she had never really tried living as a normal girl; it wasn’t refusal, just that her world was wrong, soaked in shadow like coal dust.

In that dark place, daily stains clung like oil; when did she ever get a normal childhood, warm as bread?

Last life, yes—there was a normal childhood, sweet as watermelon. This time, none—only nights like locked rooms.

Truth is, she didn’t even know why she was born; parents felt optional like empty chairs, and love never came like spring rain.

They gave her pain like thorns, nothing else, no small gift of warmth, no candle against winter.

“Yun Shi-chan, spacing out?” Moa’s voice tapped like a bamboo stick on stone.

“Eh... Thunder Lady...” Her reply floated like a leaf.

“I said Moa!” Her pout swelled like mochi, angry but not scary, just cute as a rabbit.

Twilight drifted in like violet smoke, and students scattered like sparrows; every play ends, and the street cooled like tea.

Yun Shi watched the scene like a painting, a strange reluctance settling like dew on grass; why, when she’d resisted at first, did her heart soften?

Maybe she thought too much; the smile she made tasted bitter as burnt sugar.

“Next time, wear it again—just us two,” Moa said lightly, words falling like petals. “If you don’t mind, I can introduce you to my friends.”

“Eh...” Yun Shi stared, dazed like a moth caught by lantern light.

"Isn't it obvious? As a girl, you're as cute as a spring bud, Yun Shi—so of course you should step out in a dress."

"..."

"Yun Shi, I looked. Your closet's as bare as a winter field—there isn't a single girl's piece. Is your reason to act like a boy really that important? Important enough to throw away everything that belongs to a girl?"

Moa's tone cooled like still water. Yun Shi chose silence, letting the chill ripple and settle.

"It's miserable, like a flower with its color peeled away. A girl denied the simplest joys, shoved into a boy's mask—nothing's sadder. You don't even want this, do you? You want to stand with the upperclasswomen as yourself, like standing in sunlight with them. Why? Why do you dress your heart in a disguise?"

"Thunder Lady, there are things you don't understand. All I can say is, I've gotten used to it."

She only let the words fall after a long stretch, like a stone sinking through still water.

Yes—used to it. Used to everything. Whether it's dressing as a boy, walking alone, or pacing the dark without a lantern—habit crawls over it all like moss.

Silence spread between them like fog from a river; neither said another word.

"Thunder Lady."

After the long hush, Yun Shi opened her mouth, like a door easing on old hinges.

"I don't approve, but today made me happy, like a sunbeam through cloud. But only today, before the clouds close again."

Moa's eyes slowly widened; the ash on her face flared like embers catching. She watched the girl weigh each word, sitting straight as a drawn bow.

"Thank you, Sawagawa Moa."

Heat rose across Yun Shi's cheeks like a sudden tide. Once the words left, the awkward girl couldn't bear the shame; she quickened her steps to leave Moa behind.

"The clothes—I'll wash them and return them."

She meant to toss that line like a pebble and keep walking.

"No need—the gift's already in your hands, light as a ribbon. I'm giving them to you, Yun Shi; aren't we friends?"

"..."

Moa's words kept circling in her head like a wind chime in a slow breeze, impossible to forget even if she tried.

Yun Shi didn't linger; she left Moa standing there like a rooted tree and headed toward home, her shadow stretching down the road.

Her words were misty and puzzling, but one more piece in the closet isn't bad, like a splash of plum color in winter.

A small curve tugged at her lips, a crescent-moon smile that declared today's day in women's clothes was over.