“Miss, are we really okay like this?” Yuna asked, worry clinging like morning mist. Lian Hua smiled, light as a breeze, and told her not to fret.

“Relax,” she said, “I believe Yun Shi will come around; she needs time like a slow-turning tide. More pressingly, how do we tell Mizuki?”

“Mizuki… not sure she’ll say yes.” Yuna’s face knotted like rainclouds. Win her and it’s sunshine; lose her and it’s a storm.

In the Student Council room, a strange, hushed pressure rose like cold fog over stone.

The morning sun climbed slow, warm as honey. People on the road felt parched and looked up into blinding gold, the early air thumping like distant drums.

Summer had arrived for real; the season turned like a page. Clothes lightened and layers shed, spirits painted fresh like dawn on rice paper.

At Rakuyoku High School, it was changeover time. The boys wore short sleeves and sparked like sparrows, their energy bright as fresh sap.

The girls’ short sleeves fluttered like petals; backs peeked faintly like pale shells, youth spilling like perfume. For the boys, it was fireworks.

Amid the crowd, one figure stood out—a boy with a textbook cute-girl face, annoyance drawn tight like a cornered cat’s glare.

His frame was slim; the uniform skimmed a trim waist, making girls sigh like wind through reeds. His shirt was a tailored long-sleeve, a winter leaf in summer.

People wondered if he wasn’t boiling, long sleeves under a blazing sun like a walking stove. He didn’t care; he strode with a winter draft’s swagger.

Where he went, paths opened like ripples on water; his aura parted the hall like a prow in still sea.

To most eyes, he was a pretty-boy crossdresser; in a world where “cute is justice,” he was a plush mascot on parade.

Sadly, school rumors wrapped him like thorns, and the perks didn’t land; boys’ jealous stares could cut her a hundred times like paper knives.

“Who said joining the Student Council would cut my rumors…” Yun Shi clicked her tongue, a darker shadow on her face like gathering soot. Damn it, their eyes are arrows.

Since joining the Student Council, her rumors thinned like smoke, but only among girls. Boys’ death-ray jealousy still burned like noon sun.

Maybe it’s because girls trust a cute, boyish look like a small animal, dropping their stones like pebbles into a stream.

Boys? Pure adolescent jealousy, iron-hard, and they don’t buy this face like dented armor under glitter.

She looked at the boys, envy bare as knives. Annoyed, she bowed to reality like a reed; this was everyday weather.

Fine, I’ve got girls flocking like sparrows, and you won’t give me any—though I don’t even have the gear, like a starving cat at a fish market.

With that jumble of feelings, Yun Shi stepped into class. The air bit less, lukewarm like tea sipped too late.

She reached her window seat—the protagonist’s perch—watching PE on the field like ants in choreography, the island’s coursework flowing like a familiar river.

“Yo, Yun Shi, who’s that sour face for this early?” A hand pushed from behind; she stumbled and turned into a silhouette she knew like a tree against sun.

“What, Maya Hanazaka, this early?” Irritation pricked like a hedgehog, but she didn’t blame; Maya’s smile deepened like sunlight through leaves.

“Nah. Our resident pretty-boy’s been scarce and didn’t say hi, like a wind that ghosted. Rude, right?”

“Uh…” The sound dropped like a pebble into a pond, small circles widening.

“Forget it. I heard—congrats on joining the Student Council,” Maya said, tying a ribbon on the moment like a neat bow.

“It’s fine… even though it’s been a while.” The memory stung—pushed down, torn clothes—pages ripped from a diary best left shut.

She’d been in the Council for a bit. The season turned. The war ended about a month ago, an echo fading like twilight bells.

As Asagi Renka said, the strike against the Church hadn’t landed, an arrow stuck in midair; they were gathering people like ants.

Yun Shi wasn’t interested, a stone on the riverbed letting currents pass.

“What’s wrong, Yun Shi—no thanks for me?” Maya tapped the moment like a cup asking to be filled.

“Eh…” The sound was a squeak, like a mouse in dry grass.

“Don’t space out. Thank me. Your class rep came to congratulate you,” she pressed, drumroll quick like fingers on a desk.

“Oh… th-thanks…” The words drifted like smoke, thin and shy.

“Tch… so quiet!” Maya folded her arms and used her height, looking down like a lamppost. Five centimeters, and it crushed like a boot on grass.

“Well, sorry about that.” Yun Shi waved it off like gnats at dusk, insisting she didn’t care—no, not at all.

It hit the ego. Everyone else was growing—shota boys lengthening into teens, loli girls morphing into cool older-sister types.

She was stuck drifting between, like a little boat in a foggy strait, oar tapping water with no shore in sight.

“All right, enough teasing. Free this afternoon?” Maya watched Yun Shi crouch by the wall like a wilting fern and turned the fan to a new breeze.

“What’s up?” Yun Shi’s voice hopped like a sparrow, small but alert.

“Sham. Her situation,” Maya said, folding the news like a note slipped under a door.

“Oh, Sham’s mom coming to Japan…” Yun Shi spoke, thoughtful as rain on eaves.

After the last battle, Sham’s mom flew in like a migratory bird. Sham had returned to normal life and should’ve gone back to Britain.

But her mom got a rare vacation, came here with her, and stayed a while like a picnic under long summer.

Yun Shi visited then too—she went as a girl, alone like a secret path, and Sham’s mom’s warmth was… heh, a heated blanket.

Now the vacation was almost over; in about a week, she’d fly back, a departing crane over water.

Then Sham would be living alone again, an apartment light burning like a lone star; everyone decided on a farewell party.

Sincerity hung like lanterns for a departing boat, gentle and bright.

That was youth, bright as a summer flag snapping in salt wind.

Yun Shi wasn’t that into it, but she was close with Sham; her mom was super warm—especially toward Mizuki, the Witch, and Yun Shi in private.

She figured she should go, paying respect like incense laid at a quiet shrine.

“I’m in. Need me to prep anything?” She agreed fast, a snapped finger in the air, surprising Maya like a lifted brow.

“Oh? So decisive. Planning to charm your future mother-in-law? Heh. Don’t. You’re a girl,” Maya whispered, a secret passed under a desk.

“Her mom already knows, okay,” Yun Shi said, laying a card face-up like a clean tile.

“Huh? How did I not know…” Maya blinked, left out like a face cropped from a photo.

“Idiot. Sham knows I’m a girl. Her mom knowing is two beads on one string.”

“Sometimes I wonder how you met Sham. How’d she find out so easily? I had to spend forever,” Maya groused, yarn unraveling like a frayed sleeve.

Yun Shi heard and suddenly remembered—pushed down, groped, taken advantage—storm flashes swallowed by cloud.

Her cheeks tinted rose; she glared, puffed up like a small fox. Maya thought, then looked awkward, a cat caught with fish.

“Hey, I didn’t mean it. Between girls, a little chest poking is normal. Why so shy?” she teased, feather-light.

“…I just think your attitude flipped right after you groped me,” Yun Shi said, a switch pulled with a click.

“Would you rather I go back to beating you up?” Maya smirked, bat swinging like a shadow on the wall.

“No, let’s not. I don’t like pain,” Yun Shi said, a snail avoiding salt under moonlight.

“Mm-hm. Then here’s the deal. Find time to be a proper lady for me. And we’ll bond,” Maya purred, weaving two strands like silk.

Her voice turned mischievous. A slender hand drifted to the chest under Yun Shi’s wrap; a finger prodded with a press like mochi.

Yun Shi jolted like a live wire; her face flushed red like sunset over tiled roofs.

“D-don’t joke!” She slapped the hand away and stepped back, flicking a spark off dry wood.

“Settled then. Ah, I can’t wait to see the girly you,” Maya sang, curtain rising like dawn over a stage.

“…Ahem. Weren’t we prepping for Sham’s mom?” Yun Shi tugged the reins, pulling the cart back onto the road.

“Right, right. We gotta hurry,” Maya said, snapping a fan shut like a crisp breeze.

“Hey, Mizuki—over here!” Mizuki entered, and Maya waved like a beckoning flag; Yun Shi stood quietly, a shadow by the wall.

“Morning, Maya.” “Morning, Mizuki. I snagged her. We prep the party this afternoon!” Maya grinned, butterfly caught with soft nets.

“Eh? You already cleared it with Yun? I thought I’d need to step in,” Mizuki said, reaching for an umbrella and finding sun instead.

“Haha, no need. I can handle it,” Maya replied, steering a small boat on a smooth canal.

“Thanks then. Morning, Yun. And good luck.” Mizuki walked up and smiled, a lily opening in clear water.

She already treated Yun Shi as a good friend, warm as coals; she didn’t know this friend was her secret crush, an ember hidden under ash.

“Oh…” Yun Shi answered dazedly, staring into sunlit water like a fish blinking at glitter.

What’s this? Her smile stung like glinting snow. Did she…

She sneaked a glance downward, at Mizuki’s chest, a ripe fruit under silk.

It was really bigger. No wonder she was sparkling today, like glass catching full noon.

Outwardly calm, Yun Shi flipped tables inside, a balloon bursting under thumbs. A weird defeat bloomed like wilt in heat.

How did this happen—I’m supposed to be a guy, a mask slipping like paint in rain!

“That bastard Bianqi, showing off his lovey-dovey again!” a boy hissed, like steam from a kettle.

“Damn, the Vice President got captured!” another cried, flags dropping like leaves.

“Hey, isn’t that our ‘Yuri Class Rep’? Why’s she chummy with Bianqi? I thought she hated men!” a third griped, like a crow on a wire.

“You don’t get it. The class rep got straightened ages ago!” someone bragged, chest puffed like a pigeon.

“Ugh, a true winner at life!” lamented one, bone-dry like empty cups.

“Damn it, I romance fewer girls in 2D than he does in 3D. I’m done!” another wailed, hands thrown like nets.

Oh, come on. The boys started up again. Yun Shi rubbed her temple, headache rolling like low thunder across fields.

“Sigh, Bianqi again,” a girl murmured, breeze-cool like shade after noon.

“Seriously, can’t he chill?” another said, fan tapping like a metronome.

“Aren’t those girls just his friends? What are those guys doing?” a voice asked, calm as a pond.

“You don’t know. That’s the frenzy of puberty,” someone answered, sap rising like spring in trunks.

“I don’t get it, but the boys you mean sound gross,” another concluded, lips tight like tied ribbon.

On this side, the girls stayed cooler, watching with level eyes like a still lake; no shade thrown, just calm reflections.

But they were the few; the boys’ anger surged like wildfire through dry grass.

Yun Shi grimaced, her stomach knotted like a tightening vine. Why am I the typical harem protagonist? I don’t even have a single girl who likes me! (You sure?)