After the sports meet opened, ceremonial rockets burst overhead, tossing festive color like chrysanthemums across the sky. A wave of outsiders poured in like a spring tide, swelling the buzz.

With events not yet underway, students pulled friends to loop the campus, drifting under plane trees like lazy kites. After the battering of exams, this was the soft season to unwind; not playing now felt like cheating yourself.

Beep-beep!

The whistle cut the air like a birdcall. People turned as one and saw a cheer squad setting up by the curb, pom-poms flashing like feathers.

“Damn it... why do I have to wear this…”

Yun Shi tugged at the skirt in hot shame, but the hem wouldn’t drop even a breath; it clung like morning dew.

“How’s it feel, Bianqi?” a cheer girl asked, a smile bright as sunlight.

“Not good at all. Why not just kill me!”

Humiliation rose like a fever. A grown man forced into such girly clothes—pure torture.

No—this body was female now; a dress shouldn’t be some cosmic crime...

No, worse. Her soul was male, and a dress felt wrong, like sand in gears.

Yun Shi stewed in tangled thoughts, a knot of vines in her chest. The cheerleader in uniform sized her up in that dress, eyes skimming like a brush.

The outfit sat on her like tailored silk; the fit was perfect, skin pale as milk. If anything was off, it was that the wearer was a guy... Except—her chest had a soft rise. When did she slip in padding?

“Bianqi, did you put in fake boobs…? Hm? So soft, just like the real thing.”

As she spoke, the girl set her hand on Yun Shi’s chest and gave a squeeze. Softness bloomed in her palm like warm dough. The feel was addicting, better than petting the cat at home.

“Whoa! What are you doing, you lecher!”

Yun Shi slapped the brazen hand away, shame and anger flaring like sparks in dry grass.

Either way, grabbing someone’s chest wasn’t okay—especially for someone who’d barely ever had any girl touch her there.

Side note: Yun Shi hadn’t used pads. For this dress, she’d taken off her binding—going in bare, wind on skin.

“Honestly, why’s a guy this shy? But you do look pretty cute.”

“Shut—just shut up... I said I’m only wearing this to cheer today. After this, never again. Absolutely never.”

In the end, this outfit was a pit she’d fallen into; she had no wish to stay in it, like a bird snared in twine.

“Bianqi is just too cute.”

“Ahh, I lose, I lose. As a woman, I admit defeat.”

“So femboys really are a forbidden path…”

The cheer squad, seeing how perfectly the dress fit Yun Shi, felt a wave of defeat. They slunk to the corners, drawing circles like sulking spirits.

“Alright, I’ve got something to handle. I’ll leave this to you.” The girl named Zhubei offered the excuse and left, leaving Yun Shi alone in this unfamiliar team like a stray sparrow. She looked at faces she didn’t know and wanted to kneel in despair.

If only her usual few were by her side, lanterns in fog to steady her steps.

Right now, she missed Mai Mizuki and the others fiercely, like missing sunlight in winter. Even being teased would beat this silent cold.

Beyond them, the only ones she knew were Misaki Kumiko, who usually idolized her, and Zhubei, who’d joined the cheer squad with her. She was, honestly, alone—like a lone pine on a ridge.

With no one there, the taste of loneliness hit like rainwater. Yun Shi’s gaze dimmed. She’d thought she was used to being alone; she found she couldn’t do it, not truly.

People are pack creatures—maybe that line was right, she mocked herself, bitter as tea.

Just as she thought she’d wait out the ceremony in this gray hush, a familiar figure stepped into view like a beam through cloud...

Miyuki Kiseki was happy, light as a spring swallow. She could finally come to school today and had caught the opening of the sports meet. No events for her, but the ceremony alone felt enough.

She’d been abroad for a while, with no time to study; Mizuki worried her grades would drop like autumn leaves. Once the Underworld calmed, she’d grind at her books and not fall behind.

“Is this your school?”

Andrea, walking with her, took in everything with cool eyes—the blades of grass, the buildings, even every passerby, like counting stars.

“Mm. I’m the Student Council vice president, though it’s basically just in name now.” Thinking how she’d been away so much, almost like on a leave, she let out a wry smile like a sigh.

“Is that so.”

Andrea showed little expression, still scanning the campus with a frosty gaze. Students and visitors alike stole glances—she was a striking beauty, and she was foreign, a rare bird in this grove.

At this school, besides Sham Einafel, there was basically no other foreigner; Andrea’s arrival drew eyes like moths to flame.

Honestly, Andrea had little sense of school. She’d attended before age ten, but after her sister died, she’d barely set foot in one. These years, she’d taught herself, a lone scholar under a lamp.

Seeing the campus, Andrea’s gaze softened a shade, drawn like a brook to sunlight. She even thought—maybe someday, she’d apply to be a teacher here.

Mizuki watched her study the place so seriously and didn’t cut in. When she turned, she saw a familiar figure by the roadside, a silhouette she knew by heart.

The face was the same, the hair the same; only the clothes had changed, new petals on an old branch. Mizuki went blank, staring at the beauty. Then the other turned, and their gazes met like flint.

Yunshi Bianqi was a storm of feelings. Faced with Miyuki Kiseki, she tangled up. Mizuki was on her list of friends, but... with everything scrambled, what could she possibly say?

Her bond with Mizuki was complicated—call it a fateful tangle. Not long ago, she’d fought beside Mizuki overseas under another identity. Mizuki had thought the two she cared about were seldom around, never knowing one had been right by her side all along, shadow to light.

“Xiao Yun…”

Mizuki left Andrea still looking around and went straight toward the roadside, steps quick as a swallow skimming water. Seeing that, Yun Shi peeled away from the squad by instinct and headed the other way, like a deer breaking for the trees.

The cheer squad looked puzzled, ripples in a pond. There was time before events, but leaving for no reason now felt too much.

But Yun Shi didn’t care; her heart drummed one beat—run. She couldn’t face Miyuki Kiseki. What could she use to face her? If Mizuki returned and found everything changed, what then—storm over calm water.

“Wait, Xiao Yun!”

Mizuki saw her leave and rushed after, breath quick like wind in bamboo. Abroad these days, she hadn’t had a moment without missing that boy. She knew her heart wandered—loving a girl and a boy at once—but no matter what, she didn’t want to let go.

Yun Shi quickened her pace, wanting to run until the world blurred. Why show up now? Why come back? Shouldn’t Mizuki be fine overseas—why return, stirring settled dust...

Thinking too hard, her feet hesitated like a stutter. Mizuki took the chance and caught her wrist.

The touch was the same, the hand the same—unchanged, a well-worn talisman in her palm.

“Xiao Yun, I... why are you leaving?”

Once she caught up, Mizuki needed to know, the question rising like steam from tea.

Yun Shi turned back, face awash in sorrow like rain. Mizuki had never seen that look on her; she froze, breath held.

“Why did you come back... who told you to come back.”

Her first words pushed like a cold wind. But Mizuki knew—it was a plea for comfort wrapped in thorns.

“Xiao Yun, did something happen?”

“…”

“Why won’t you talk?”

“…I don’t know how to say it.”

Seeing Mizuki again, Yun Shi found words snowed in. She was scared—afraid Mizuki would leave her too. Then she’d be truly alone, a candle in an empty room.

“Something happened, right? You’re hiding it from me, aren’t you?!”

“Don’t worry about me!”

Yun Shi shook off Mizuki’s hand and tried to go. She didn’t dare face her; she feared she’d break, glass under heel.

Then Mizuki pulled, a sudden tide; she dragged Yun Shi close and held her tight, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

“Let go!”

Yun Shi struggled like a trapped bird, but Mizuki wouldn’t loosen her arms, stubborn as a tree in wind.

“When I wasn’t here, you must have... run into something bad. I’m sorry.”

Mizuki didn’t know the reason either; her gut said she should apologize, rain after dust to settle the air.

Yun Shi eased, the fight draining away. Sourness spread in her chest like brine; she felt wronged, on the edge of tears.

Days without friends had felt like walking in cold wind, with no one to share the ache. Now Mizuki was here—the one person who could hold her—and Yun Shi’s bottled grievance surged, a spring thaw breaking ice.

“This is all your fault. If you were here, it wouldn’t be like this, you idiot, Mizuki!”

“Eh… why like this…”

“It’s you, it’s you—anyway, it’s all your fault! Why are you only back now, you idiot? Always out there on your own, reckless and willful—you never thought about my feelings, did you!”

Yun Shi only wanted to vent, nothing else. Strange but true—before Mizuki, she could drop her guard and spill everything, like upending a jar into the river.

“I’m sorry…”

All Mizuki could do was hold the person in her arms, tight as a winter quilt. She knew Yun Shi must have been hurt; otherwise, she wouldn’t be like this, a storm finally breaking.

She wasn’t good at comforting; she chose warmth—an embrace, a hearth fire for cold hands.

“I’m back now, so it’ll be okay.”

Facing Yun Shi, Mizuki let a gentle smile bloom, warmth spreading like sun on frost. Whatever happened, she still liked Yun Shi.

“You… idiot…”

With the grievance spent, the anger scattered like smoke. Yun Shi’s small face flushed, and she leaned into Mizuki’s chest, soaking in her warmth. She felt...

Her heart not so cold anymore, like ice thawing under morning light.