The summer sun didn’t warm; it scorched, a molten hammer beating the ground like fresh magma—exaggerated, sure, but close enough to the truth.

“So hot...” The complaint slipped out before anything else. Then Yun Shi dragged her feet, face drawn tight, sweat beading at her nape and sliding under her collar like cold snakes. Everything felt wrong—sticky, filthy, her bandages soaking through. No way she could rewrap next period. Too dirty.

She’d worn long sleeves, a thin shield that trapped heat like a sealed kiln. There was a reason: short sleeves meant bare arms, the kind that would snag eyes like fishhooks. Not happening.

And she feared cold like winter wind lurking in summer shadow; she wore more than others in winter, more again in summer. If she felt this cooked, others must be burning alive.

New day, same blaze. PE class under this sun felt like a sentence.

She carried her change of clothes and headed for her “changing room”—a remote single stall in a far-off bathroom. She couldn’t change with the boys. She couldn’t change with the girls. So she changed alone, because cross-dressing left no other path.

The heat pressed in like a wet blanket. Her back was a damp map; if she left it, someone might glimpse white strips beneath her shirt—just picturing it made her stomach drop.

She’d wash. No matter what. Even if she had to slip into the girls’ showers like a shadow.

Rakuyoku High School didn’t have those legendary gym bloomers; sorry, shut-in daydreams. Both boys and girls wore plain PE gear. No “benefits” on display. Thanks to that, Yun Shi didn’t have to worry; the show wasn’t hers to give.

After roll call, they split by gender. The PE teacher wasn’t a thick-necked muscle wall; she was a bombshell, a curve-drawn storm. The boys found consolation in that view, while the girls watched with envy, with bite.

Even Yun Shi, a girl with a boy’s soul, knit her brows and glared at those perfect legs like a flame she wanted to stomp out.

It’s not jealousy!

“Boys, show some respect.” The teacher’s voice snapped like a bamboo rod. She was single, by the way. Not that it mattered.

“Sorry!” The boy chorus hit like a clumsy drum.

“Boys are the worst.” “Ew...” The girls recoiled, stepping back as if the air had turned sour. The boys wilted, hearts crumpling.

“Tch. What’s so great about that...” Yun Shi muttered from the edge of the boy pack and sidled away, cutting clean like a knife along bark. She wasn’t disgusted with men—men were men, wolves and puppies both. She was annoyed by the teacher’s figure. That was all.

She had no idea that little sidestep looked strange as a sparrow flying backward. To the teacher, the student named Bianqi hadn’t ogled her like the others; he’d stared with that sharp, jealous glint only girls wear. Now he kept distance. Odd, odd student.

“Girls, run a thousand meters. Boys, two thousand. Then warm-ups. Girls can rest after they finish.” Orders fell like stones.

“That’s unfair!” The protest was a small wave against a seawall.

“Unfair? Someone was ogling me. I’m giving you a chance to repent.” The teacher’s smile had teeth.

“Uh...” Silence, then the whistle. “Run. Move!”

The boys set off on their long road, knowing “warm-up” was a gentle name for a hard grind. Seeing the teacher was a sweet plum in bitter tea, sure, but it didn’t change the taste.

Hopeless, this lot.

Girls cheered, but someone worried in the crowd. A certain yuri heart beat fast for a certain cross-dressed girl. Maya Hanazaka had recognized her feelings, and her care clung like ivy.

Yun Shi caught the look and flashed a small gesture: I’m fine. Maya unclenched, relief soft as rain.

By the time the run ended, the boys were spent, chests heaving like bellows. It wasn’t over. Warm-ups still waited like another hill. Yun Shi was more tired—she was a girl—but calisthenics? Those were her field.

Warm-ups were just simple drills, the sort of routine that once filled mornings back home. Her body met them with ease, while the boys, fresh from the long run, grimaced like men chewing rubber.

And it didn’t end there. More exercises stacked like bricks.

Her stamina wasn’t on par with the boys, her overall build was lighter, but when it came to flexibility, her body flowed like water through reeds.

Result: during stretches and aerobics, only she finished clean. Every line, every hold.

“Bianqi, skip warm-up. Go rest.” The teacher cut her loose.

“Yes.” Yun Shi answered flat, no fawning tilt, no obedient shine. It irked the teacher like grit under a lens.

Is this really my student?

“That’s not fair! Why does Bianqi get to go?”

“If you finish without slacking, you can go too.” The reply landed like a ruler on knuckles.

With time to kill, Yun Shi drifted toward the idle basketball, picked it up, and started shooting alone inside the gym. It was summer; PE was indoors. The resting girls could play too, but few did. Yun Shi had played in her previous life; her hands remembered enough.

“Don’t you think Bianqi’s a good guy?” A whisper buzzed like bees.

“Yeah. He’s not like the others. Looks straight as a pine.”

“What do we do, Miyu? I think I’ve fallen for him.” A confession fluttered like a paper crane.

“See? A cute kid wouldn’t be that pervy.” Judgment soft, but sharp.

Yun Shi’s favor with the girls rose like a red paper lantern. She didn’t notice; she kept shooting, clumsy in spots but covered by charm. Girls and cute things are magnets and steel; she happened to be both.

Fate loves its jokes. As a real boy, she’d never been this popular. As a girl, suddenly the wind blew at her back.

Class ended quickly, like a fan snapping shut. Yun Shi didn’t linger; she slipped out early.

After PE, she always showered. Not in the boys’ room, obviously. She ghosted into an unused women’s shower, usually one set aside for teachers.

She washed clean. The stickiness peeled away like old bark. Only her hair needed taming.

“Yo. Done?” Maya waited outside, a guard at the gate. She’d been this way since discovering Yun Shi was a girl, an ally standing in the doorway.

“Mm. This time too... thanks.” Yun Shi kept her eyes on the towel, voice turned aside like a sidelong glance. Maya was used to it, and the sight of that glossy hair drew her in like incense smoke.

She wanted to lean in and inhale, but no. That would cross a line. That would be hated.

“Here. I brought bandages. Yours must be soaked.” Maya held out fresh white strips, and Yun Shi took them, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.

“You’re thorough. Thanks.” Soft words from Yun Shi were rare as plum blossoms in snow. Maya bloomed inside. Proof she had a chance.

Maya fixed her hair, and when she tried to watch the rewrapping, Yun Shi scolded. Maya slumped, a small storm cloud. We’re both girls—what’s the harm in one glance?

Once Yun Shi finished, they switched back to uniforms and walked together.

Maya loved her, so just being near her was joy enough, like sitting under the same tree. She didn’t ask for more.

“Is it just me, or have you seemed happy lately?”

“It’s just you.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

She wouldn’t confess. Not now. Time would do its work. Strategy, not impulse.

“Ah, found you—Maya-chan and Yun Shi-kun! You two are together~” A familiar voice chimed, bright as bells, and a familiar girl hurried over.

“Mizuki. What is it?” Yun Shi’s tone was cool water.

“Hehe, good news. Ta-da—look!” Mizuki pulled tickets from her pocket, glossy as fish scales.

“Tickets? You want us all to go out?”

“Mm! I scored a few. It’s the weekend, so let’s go have fun. It’s fine—I know the place. Let’s go swimming.”

Mizuki fidgeted, shy as a willow leaf, then looked up beaming, eyes locked on them.

“Swimming? I’m in.” Maya didn’t hesitate. Her yes was a pebble tossed into a clear pond.

“Who else is going?” Yun Shi’s question cooled the air.

“Um, I don’t know if Sham’s coming. But Mizuki-chan and Yan Er-chan said yes. Oh, and I still have to ask Moa-chan.”

“Swimming...” The word unraveled inside Yun Shi.

Swimming with friends. She wanted to go. Of course she did. But—

How could she say it?

She’d finally accepted these few as friends. She wanted to deepen it, to go out together and stitch bonds tighter. This was perfect. This was a bridge.

But a group of girls inviting her—was that really okay? I’m a guy. Inside.

Swimming meant swimsuits. It meant bodies, lines, the kind that made a heartbeat trip.

How do I say this?

“T-this might not be a good idea...” Her gaze slid away, thoughts scattering like startled sparrows.

“It’s all girls going. I’ll pass.”

What am I saying!

Say I want to go—say it!

Don’t be tsundere now!

Be honest, damn it!

Why can’t you be honest at a moment like this? I hate myself!

“I see. That’s a shame. I wanted to invite you.” Mizuki’s voice dimmed as she pulled the ticket back, paper whispering like dry leaves. Yun Shi’s face stayed still, but inside, her heart blew up like firecrackers.

No—no no no—I want to go!

She meant to say yes. But at her lips, warm words cooled into a no, like tea gone cold, and regret pooled in Yun Shi like rain in a gutter.

Tsundere is a sickness; it needs a cure, like a knot in bamboo begging steam.

But when will it heal, like a winter that won’t end?

Right before Mizuki pulled back the tickets, Maya Hanazaka caught her hand like a falling leaf. Under Mizuki’s puzzled gaze, Maya winked, quick as a firefly.

Mizuki followed her line like a thread through a loom and saw Yun Shi. She’d turned away to act indifferent, a cat studying the wall. Yet her eyes kept darting to the tickets in Mizuki’s hand, sparrows pecking seed. The moment Mizuki looked over, her gaze snapped back, smooth as a still pond.

Mizuki got it, like a lantern flaring to life.

"Hey, Yun Shi, come with us~"

"N-no, I’m fine. I’m not going..." Her voice drifted like fog.

That answer rang false, a drum with split skin. If she meant no, she’d say it clean, like a knife.

Obviously, Yun Shi wanted to go, a tide tugging the shore. Mizuki knew it, clear as moonlight.

"Isn’t it nice? Let’s go together," Maya coaxed, soft as spring rain.

Panic first, then thought: What do I do? They’re asking me to go. I should just say yes, like a pebble into a pond.

"It’s only fun if we all go. Don’t refuse, Yun Shi. Otherwise everyone’ll be gloomy," Maya said, a warm breeze.

Say yes, say yes, say yes—her heart drummed like festival taiko.

Okay. Say it now, like an arrow leaving the bow.

"Like hell. Whatever they do has nothing to do with me." Her mouth slammed shut like a gate.

I’m such an idiot! The thought cracked like thunder.

How long are you going to keep refusing, like a river dammed by one stubborn rock?!

For heaven’s sake, just be honest already—ugh! It felt like wringing water from stone.

"It’s okay. Go," Maya said, smiling, sunlight through leaves.

Her eyes held on Yun Shi, an anchor in a choppy bay.

"...Fine, then."

Yun Shi put on reluctance like a mask and accepted, tickets light as feathers in her hand.

Inside, confetti burst like petals on the wind; she was giddy, sky-bright.

Finally said yes. Thank goodness, like rain after drought.

"Then we’re definitely going this weekend. I can’t wait~" Mizuki sang, a skylark’s lilt.

After Mizuki waved goodbye and drifted back to her classroom like a leaf, Yun Shi let out a long breath, wind leaving the sails.

Swimming this weekend—can’t wait. If only time would hurry, like the tide coming in.

"Honestly surprising. You actually agreed," Maya laughed, bells in summer air.

"I didn’t agree. You begged, so I’ll go. That’s all," Yun Shi said, frost on the lip while embers glowed inside.

She burned within, a bright hearth; on the surface she stayed cool, a lake at dawn.

"And also, going swimming means swimsu—uh." The word snagged like a fishhook.

Mid-sentence she froze, a deer in lantern light. Maya watched, puzzled, head tilted like a sparrow.

Swimsuits. Swimsuits. Swimsuits. Girls’ swimsuits. Schoolgirls’ swimsuits—the words clattered like beads.

Yun Shi is a girl, which means—the truth rose like steam.

There won’t be a single male among us, a garden without crows.

In other words—like a gavel falling—

Yunshi Bianqi will have to wear—

Aaaah! Why didn’t I think of that?! If I go swimming, I’ll be exposed. I’m a girl—aaah! Panic boiled like an unwatched pot.

Oh no, I was so busy agreeing I forgot I’m a girl—aaah! The thought flapped like a trapped bird.

Big crisis. What do I do? I regret it. I don’t want to swim! The resolve crumbled like sandcastles at high tide.

Yun Shi had run headlong into the biggest trouble of her life, a snare tight as thornbush.