The annual sports festival rolled in like a summer tide; the opening ceremony alone drew eyes the way swallows swarm a bright sky.

It lasts three days, each one spent in contests like pounding drums. Visitors stream in like wind through gates; it’s second only to the school festival.

With the Student Council president and vice president both away, only Yun Shi, the lone proxy, had to shoulder their load like a bamboo pole bending under buckets.

“I mean… we don’t have to do this, right?”

Her voice carried a flinch, like a cat pawing a closed door before the rain.

“Nope! You forgot, Yunshi Bianqi—this was the deal~”

“But me being there or not… doesn’t it change nothing?” Her protest fluttered like a trapped moth.

“The one difference? They’re real girls, and you’re not. Doesn’t that setting sound perfect?” The tease landed like a pebble on still water.

“Get lost… how is that perfect? This isn’t some anime panel.”

“Details, details~ You promised the whole class you’d join the cheer squad.”

“You all forced me into it!”

“Aww, don’t sweat the details~”

“…”

Talking to the girls in class was like wading upstream; they barely noticed her before, but once the cheer squad was decided, their attention clung like morning dew.

And especially her—no one was more “enthusiastic” than that one girl, smile bright as a paper lantern.

Yun Shi eyed the cheer outfit hanging in the girl’s hand; the fabric felt like a net she didn’t want to wear, but fate pushed like a relentless tide.

“Fine, okay. I’ll change by myself…”

She took the outfit, reluctant as if lifting wet clay. The girl’s grin bloomed like a peony; joy warmed the air.

“I’m looking forward to your entrance~”

“Drop dead! I’m not wearing this again after today!”

“C’mon, a boy should be generous~”

“…”

Once the girl named Takebei left, Yun Shi slumped, clutching the outfit like a hot potato, and headed for the changing room through a corridor buzzing like cicadas.

She’d cursed Maya Hanazaka for forcing the cheer idea on her, but now… the ache of missing Maya pricked like a thorn under skin.

That confession with no answer had left a week of silence, the gap between them stiff as frost.

Yun Shi had thought, What if I dated one of them—Sham or the lily-girl? Maybe every knot would loosen like wrinkled silk under steam.

But they’re girls; love like that runs off into unknown woods. And Yun Shi refused to treat love like a game. She wanted a girlfriend, yes, but not without roots, not without rain.

She cut across the noisy campus, alone, carrying the hated outfit like a weight on her chest, feet heavy as if stepping through mud.

Just as she reached the door, a thud-thud sounded next door—like someone knocking from inside a wooden box. Yun Shi frowned and traced the sound to a room.

“Almost done, stop fussing…”

“Wait, I’m not ready…”

“Okay, watch me…”

The voices were girls. One voice shook with tears, like a sparrow in a sudden gust; the other lilted with mischief, like a cat batting yarn.

She mulled it over, but nothing clicked. Maybe just girl-on-girl horseplay? It wouldn’t be the first time; roughhousing is a spring shower that passes quickly.

But they were loud. Anyone walking in could hear, and that would ripple out like gossip on a breeze.

Yun Shi decided to ask them to quiet down.

“Hey, could you keep it down? There are people—uh…”

She pulled the door open—because you have to open doors to ask politely—and then saw what no one plans to see.

Two girls turned, eyes wide as startled deer. One’s top was off, leaving only a close-fit bra; her skirt hung half-fallen, cotton panties peeking like a shy moon.

The other had her blouse unbuttoned, bra bare as a white cloud; only her skirt stayed on, and her hand clutched the first girl’s hem, about to tug it down.

Bare skin gleamed in the cool air, clothes strewn like fallen petals; their faces flushed crimson like maples in late autumn, turning imagination into wildfire.

Of all people, why Mizuki and Yan Er, and why during a change of clothes, like fate tossing dice in a temple hall?

Yun Shi had thought catching a glimpse of girls changing was fortune that never visits her door, but the wind shifted early.

“Sorry to intrude…”

She tried to flee; her face twitched to fake calm, but nerves sparked like dry leaves. Be serious—seeing girls’ spring-light spill out, how do you stay calm?

“Eeeek!”

“Yunshi Bianqi!!!”

Smack!

Smack!

Minutes later, Yun Shi stepped out, twin red handprints blooming on her cheeks like hot stamps. Mizuki and Yan Er stood in front, uniforms back on, anger simmering like a pot left on high heat, shame painting their faces.

To them, being seen bare by a boy was a thunderclap; worse, they’re both lily-girls—love blooms among girls, not boys.

Yun Shi felt wronged, like a kite cut from its string. How could she know someone would be changing there? It wasn’t even a changing room; who expects clothes to fly in a storage room?

“I didn’t mean it…”

She bowed her head, cheeks burning like chilies, trying to apologize. It was the best she could do, but neither bought it.

“Scum, dirt—Yunshi Bianqi, I misjudged you!”

“I thought you were a gentleman. Turns out you’re a wolf in heat!”

Being hit with that from two girls stung like nettles, but what could she say? If a girl had walked in on them, they might’ve laughed it off. But in their eyes, Yun Shi was a boy.

Because of her own choice, she dressed as a boy at school; to most, she was just a pretty-faced trap. Few knew the effeminate “boy” was truly a girl beneath the reeds.

“Unforgivable, unforgivable—you dared see my… my… anyway, nothing short of divine punishment will soothe my heart!” Yan Er sputtered, shame and fury mixing like storm-clouds.

“Also, Yunshi Bianqi, what’s with that outfit in your hands!? Don’t tell me you’re so starved you’re wearing girl clothes now?!”

The way she snapped made Yun Shi miss how Maya used to sting her; that same sharpness, like winter wind on bare knuckles.

“It’s not that, this is—”

She tried to explain, words sticking like rice.

“Mizuki, strip him. Put it on him!”

“Yun Shi, I know you didn’t mean it… but I’m still mad!” Mizuki’s tone tightened like a bowstring.

“Stop, I’m serious!”

They were two; she was one. If they stripped her, the truth would break out like dawn—all her careful shadows gone.

Moments later, a girl stepped out of the changing room, face burning with humiliation. She tugged at fabric, trying to cover skin as if pulling clouds over the sun.

The cheer outfit showed a lot—midriff bright as a slice of day—and Yun Shi felt exposed, uncomfortable as a fish on dry tray.

“Mm. Not bad. It fits.” Yan Er’s eyes combed her like wind over wheat.

“Yun Shi… are you really a guy?” Mizuki’s doubt hung like mist.

“I told you—I’m not wearing this for you!” Her voice cracked, despair splashing like a dropped basin.

They were supposed to be in a cold war with her, but one accidental glimpse rewired everything, turning them cruel like frost on late blossoms.

“In the end, it’s all her fault…” Yun Shi muttered, tugging the skirt hem to hide her thighs, but the fabric refused, and skin stayed bare like polished jade.

Yan Er’s gaze dipped, dimming like dusk. She steadied herself, recalling what she’d told Mizuki—hold a good heart, face reality like morning light.

“By the way, why were you two in there?” Shame was a weight, but questions still needed answers.

“We were just trying on gym uniforms. Simple as that. Who knew a pervert would walk in.” Yan Er’s words struck like hail.

“Uh… right…”

Being seen by an outsider was her fault; apologies slipped like leaves in rain.

They hadn’t spoken for a week. Now, fate stitched a crooked thread and gave them a topic under awkward skies.

“Enough. Don’t you have things to do? Go.” Yan Er swung the door closed with a finality like a gate at dusk.

“I mean—”

“Go.”

“…Fine.”

Seeing Yan Er’s mood tangled like vines, Yun Shi let it be. She’d changed; no reason to linger like smoke.

Once Yun Shi’s footsteps faded like receding tide, Yan Er’s shoulders loosened, fear of snapping at her ebbing like light from a lantern.

“Yan Er-chan…” Mizuki’s worry softened her eyes like water.

“I’m fine. It’s just… plain sad.” Yan Er’s smile looked worse than crying, brittle as frost on grass.

With the bond twisted like a knotted rope, what else could she do?

“I’ll take the loss. If I lose, I won’t cry.” She tried to make her words a shield, thin as paper.

“You want to cry, don’t you?” Mizuki’s voice trembled like a leaf.

“You too, Mizuki.” The truth sat between them like a stone.

Silence fell, heavy as snow. The air grew awkward, a room with no door.

“If we’d known we’d meet him here, we shouldn’t have come.” Regret pooled like ink.

They’d only come to try clothes, to soothe hearts like rubbing a bruise, and yet…

Two people nursing the same wound, both having lost the one they loved, could only lean on each other like trees sharing wind.

Yunshi Bianqi was unforgivable in their eyes; he refused to choose, then stole away the person they both adored. No reason, no warning; they lost to someone they couldn’t bear.

Tears fell one by one, beading like rain on the eaves; vision blurred, hearts thumped wild like trapped sparrows.

“Why him… I liked Maya Hanazaka too. Just because… just because he’s a boy…” Yan Er’s voice cracked like thin ice.

She couldn’t accept it—liking a lily-girl was a mistake, and that lily-girl already had someone.

“I can’t accept it either…” Mizuki’s refrain shivered, and then the tears came; grief flowed like a river finally breaking a dam.

It had taken a week to calm the storm in their chests, and now the wind rose again, shredding repose like paper. That pain is a road unseen by those who haven’t loved.

They forced strength in public; in private, their real faces surfaced like moon through clouds.

They didn’t know that, while they cried, someone leaned against the wall beyond, listening. She looked up at the ceiling, a silent sky, and sighed in her heart like a reed in wind.

Then she left as quiet as falling ash, leaving nothing behind but an echo.