“Man, I’m giddy; it’s been ages since I felt this bright—four of us together feels like sunlight rippling on a pond.”

“Heh, heads up, I’m into girls now—mind if I flirt a little, like a cat circling cream?”

“Scram, you lovesick perv, like a moth headbutting a lamp.”

“Rude. The girls around me are pretty enthusiastic, like bees to bloom, you know.”

“Yeah, right. Mizuki told me no one’s even dated you, so quit the peacocking.”

“Tch, Mizuki…”

“Ahaha, a mirror shows what’s there.”

“It’s fine. No matter what you’re like, Maya, we’re friends—roots under the same tree.”

Evening pooled like ink at the edge of the sky, and the four girls walked with windchime laughter, bright as swallows skimming a river.

After talking with Maya, Chiyako and Ayame realized they couldn’t change her liking girls, so under Mizuki’s gentle push, they let it go like leaves on water.

Chiyako and Ayame said they’d respect Maya’s choice, and they wouldn’t meddle again, like hands unclenching a rope.

It ended here, but it wasn’t easy; if history tilted an inch, today’s knot wouldn’t have come undone, like a reed bent by the wrong wind.

“Maya, your friend’s a good person—so serious, like someone steadying a lantern in rain. I’m jealous you have her.”

“I think she was called Bianqi-chan, right? Such a cute girl—introduce us next time, like birds meeting at the same branch.”

They laughed as they praised her, warm as tea-steam; it made sense, since her earnest help was one reason they reconciled, like mortar between old bricks.

“No, Yun-kun is…”

Hearing them bring up that someone, Mizuki gave a wry smile, ready to say he was a guy, but Maya tugged her sleeve like a sparrow nipping a twig.

“Shh. Keep that secret between us, like a folded letter.”

Seeing Maya so jumpy, Mizuki didn’t know why, but she chose silence, like a tide going still; in their eyes, Yun Shi was a girl, and Maya clearly didn’t want the veil lifted.

What Mizuki didn’t know was this: Maya kept the secret not to hide that Yun Shi was a boy, but to hide that Yun Shi was a girl, like mist hiding a bridge.

“By the way, your school’s got a sports festival coming up, right?”

“Mm? Yeah.”

“Nice. We’ll come cheer for you, like flags in a fair wind.”

“Really? Great! I’m in a few events—promise you’ll come, like a pinky swear under the moon!”

“Of course. We’ll be there, like feet set on a path.”

Rakuyoku High School’s sports festival would be open to the public, a fairground of noise and color, drawing visitors who might choose the school by that day’s breeze.

It was a whole-school affair, a tide of faces; no one knew how big the wave would be, but hope hummed like cicadas.

Mizuki looked to the sky, eyes smoothing like a lake at dusk; her answer was already carved into her heart like a seal.

“Mizuki, what’s wrong?”

Maya asked, head tilted like a curious finch. Mizuki shook her head with a smile, soft as falling petals.

“I’ve decided what I’m going to do.”

“Eh?”

“Maya, your world, and the place we can belong—I’ll guard them, like a gate in a storm. Even if I stand against the world, I won’t let go.”

“Whoa, why so serious, like thunder over a clear field?”

“It’s nothing. I just decided on my road. No matter how far or rough, I chose it, so I’ll walk it, like a pilgrim with sore feet. To catch up to someone, I’ll keep struggling there, grow stronger and steadier, all for myself.”

It sounded painfully chuunibyou, like a cloaked hero on a rooftop; most would snort and call her a cringey teen.

But Maya and the others didn’t. They saw the seriousness she couldn’t hide in her eyes, bright as a blade; the resolve rang true.

Yes, Mizuki had decided. She would accept Lian Hua’s invitation and visit the Church, then grow stronger, like iron in a forge.

Even if the road’s end burned like hell, she would walk; if she couldn’t walk, she would run, like a deer fleeing uphill.

Miyuki Kiseki would become a force in the Underworld; for someone, she would do it, like a vow whispered to a candle.

“It feels like you’ve changed, Mizuki.”

Chiyako sighed, like a wind through bamboo; the old Mizuki had justice in flashes, but she was hot-blooded and naive, a girl rushing headlong like a kitten into rain.

Now, that recklessness was hard to find; she seemed contained, ripened like rice bending with grain.

When she spoke, her face and tone were natural, like water at rest; she’d clearly been through something, or she wouldn’t talk like this. There was no fever in her voice, only a choice tempered like steel.

In that alone, Mizuki had grown up; she wasn’t the same naive girl from before, like a bud turned blossom.

“Mizuki, you’re so mature now. You feel like an adult, like shade under an old tree.”

Even her friends said so; Mizuki could only give a rueful smile, thin as a crescent moon.

Well then, do what you’ve decided; there’s nothing to fear, like a boat slipping from its mooring.

“No way. What have you been doing lately? Ever since you vanished for two weeks, your whole vibe changed—how to put it, more womanly, like silk instead of cotton?”

“D-don’t joke, Maya!”

Her friend’s teasing flushed Mizuki’s cheeks, red as sunset; in that, she was still the same.

She didn’t know where the road would lead, like a path into fog. But… since Miyuki Kiseki had decided, she’d walk by her own map, like ink on rice paper.

Because she liked that person, like a moth to a single candle.

“We’ll head out first!”

“Email me, you two—send a little paper crane.”

“Okay!”

“Bye-bye!”

They’d traded numbers and emails, so the four said their goodbyes and split like petals on a stream. Maya had business and left first, asking Mizuki to head home alone; Mizuki walked the wide road and made a call, voice steady as a beam.

“Hey, Yun Shi, you still around?”

“Yeah. I just bought groceries and I’m about to cook. What’s up?”

“Anyway, come out. I’m waiting at the park, like a cat on a fence.”

“Huh? Why would I come out?”

“Just come. I’ve got something to say, like a pebble stuck in my shoe.”

“Tch, such a hassle…”

The line clicked dead like a dropped bead. Maya didn’t mind; she pocketed her phone and hurried toward the park, feet quick as sparrows.

It wasn’t far, but she wanted to be faster, like wind pushing a kite.

Yun Shi had run like this too; what was in her heart then, like drums under her ribs?

If Maya ran at her pace now, would she catch her gaze, like shadow catching foot? If…

If Maya Hanazaka could change, could Maya change again, and stay together, like two swans on one lake?

The feeling was exactly like first love, like spring thaw—exactly like when she confessed to Mizuki, like a bell struck twice.

When Yun Shi arrived, she found Maya alone by the swings, clearly waiting a long time, like dew waiting dawn. Yun Shi sighed inside and walked over, helpless as a drifting leaf.

“I’m not late, am I?”

“Of course not.”

Maya flashed a huge smile, bright as a sunflower; Yun Shi’s mind blanked for a heartbeat, then steadied like cooling tea.

“Yun Shi, I want to say something.”

Maya leaned against the park’s low wall, smiling, words brewing like tea in a clay pot.

In the sunset’s wash, her face blushed, ripe as a peach; her hesitation added that tender, girlish green, like a painting come alive.

The girl across from her stood there in the amber light, watching, a touch of wonder in her eyes like the first star; she waited quietly, like a held breath.

“Sorry I yelled at you like that. You came to help me, but I…”

Maya twisted her fingers, tongue-tied, a rose tint crossing her face like dawn.

“It’s fine. I don’t care about that, like rain off a roof…”

Faced with a girl who liked girls, Yun Shi felt awkward, heat pooling like summer under her collar; she turned away, pretending cool, but her eyes kept sneaking back, like fish to bait.

“And thank you, for helping my friends accept me. I’m really glad I met you, like finding shade at noon.”

“…”

Being thanked like that left Yun Shi clumsy, hands empty as a bird with nowhere to perch. People rarely thanked her; words tangled like yarn.

Should she act all cool and say it was nothing but a detour, like brushing dust off a sleeve?

Or brag a little and say her current self was all thanks to me, so show some gratitude, like a queen on a throne?

Or ignore her and say serves you right for treating me like that, like frost on a leaf?

No.

Why were all my choices tsundere routes, like a script in neon?

I’m not a tsundere!

While Yun Shi wrestled with herself, Maya laughed, a clear ripple; more than apology or thanks, something else filled her chest, like warm honey.

“Yun Shi.”

“What—”

Yun Shi turned her head—and froze like a deer.

Soft warmth brushed her cheek, a petal landing on skin; she could hear the other’s breath, close as clover, and her face flared red, smoke-from-the-ears level.

The yuri girl was kissing her!

It was only a cheek kiss, but it was still a kiss, like a stamp on a letter.

So embarrassing! Why so sudden, like thunder from a blue sky!

And she even closed her eyes, like a shy maiden in a woodblock print!

Yun Shi roasted her with a thousand internal complaints, a bonfire of thoughts, until Maya slowly drew back, the moment floating like a loose dandelion.

Seeing Yun Shi’s mortified glare, sharp as a flayed stare, Maya had to bite a laugh like biting a peach.

We’re both girls. A cheek peck won’t kill anyone; why’re you acting like I stole your wallet, even if, well, I did steal a moment.

“See you~”

Maya’s smile was blazing, like a comet; she left the stunned Yun Shi standing in the wind and ran home straight as an arrow.

Yun Shi stood there windblown, thoughts in tatters like flags after a storm. What on earth was that girl after?

Maya gave no explanation. Her heart sang sweet, sweeter than honey, like sugar melting in tea. Ya, I just kissed her cheek—so shy! Not lips, which is a shame, but that’s for later; for now this is perfect, like saving dessert.

Maya laughed all the way, a little foolish grin, not caring about stares, eyes on the road ahead like a path of light.

Maya Hanazaka fell in love again, like spring returning after snow.

She liked Yunshi Bianqi, this person, this presence, like a steady flame.

When did it start? Maybe when she learned Yun Shi was a girl, like a veil lifting.

Maybe when they talked that night and made peace, like rain washing dust.

Maybe when she changed her attitude toward her, like a door opening.

Maybe when Yun Shi helped her reconcile with her old friends, like a bridge laid over water.

Either way, she liked her—simple as a bell tone.

She had let go of her feelings for Mizuki, like a kite cut free; now, she had a new love, like a fresh blossom.

She wasn’t ready to confess yet, but it was fine; Yun Shi had said she liked girls too, like a sign posted on the road. That meant there was a chance.

So she would try harder, and chase her, like a runner toward the tape.

Just before she caught her return bus, Maya Hanazaka lifted the brightest smile she’d ever worn, like sunlight breaking clouds, and stepped onto her path.

Her smile, right then, was dazzling, like a banner in the wind.

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