A deafening explosion ripped through the air. Scorching flames rolled across the earth, while flying rocks and dust choked the surroundings.

The girl lay sprawled on the ground, her body etched with countless tiny cuts. She struggled to push herself up, exhaustion weighing down every muscle.

"Futile. Stop wasting your strength."

A seductive woman loomed over her, face flushed with triumph.

The girl gritted her teeth, helpless.

"Despicable..."

The woman merely shrugged, unfazed. "Blame your own weakness. You brought this on yourself."

The girl had no retort. In raw power, she stood no chance.

"I’ve waited for this day. And now—it’s finally here."

The woman’s smile widened, radiant.

Just as the girl lifted her head to speak, searing pain exploded in her chest.

A sharp black blade plunged deep. Before words could form, blood gushed forth, drowning her unspoken cry.

The sword in the woman’s hand had struck true. The girl’s pupils dilated, their light fading fast.

The blade withdrew. Blood sprayed. Her body crumpled to the ground.

"I’ve always wanted to kill you. Always craved your body. And now—I’ve done it."

The woman chuckled, then threw her head back in maniacal laughter.

As her lifeblood drained, the girl tried to speak—but her eyelids grew heavy. The azure glow in her eyes dimmed.

The sky seemed to shift above, but it no longer mattered.

Just before darkness took her, a voice called her name.

"Xiao Mo!"

Who was calling? Who...

……………………

*Riiiiing!!!*

"Wah!"

Jolted awake by the alarm, the girl fumbled to silence it. She clutched her blanket, sweat beading on her forehead. Her clothes clung to her, soaked through.

"That dream again..."

Lately, it haunted her. The face of the girl murdered in the dream mirrored her own—almost exactly.

She buried her face in her hands, a dull ache pulsing in her temples. Her living room was a mess: game controller cords tangled like stubborn knots, half-read *h*-books peeking out with illustrations enough to make any teenage boy blush.

*...Is it really okay for a girl to have these?*

Yawning, she kicked off her clothes and tossed them aside. Sticky with sweat, she shuffled into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Warm water streamed over her skin. Steam curled around her still-developing frame. Her hands brushed her chest, and a flush spread across her cheeks.

"Tch... Even after a month, it still feels so embarrassing..."

*Even though this body is mine now.*

After drying her hair, she tied it up with a quick twist of her wrist. As usual, she wrapped cloth tightly around her chest, pulled on her boy’s uniform, and gave her chest a reassuring pat before heading out.

*Right—baseball cap.* Essential camouflage.

She opened the door to find a girl in a school uniform scrolling on her phone. The girl looked up.

"Morning. You’re slow today."

"Yuki, if you’re here, just knock! Why wait outside?"

"I did knock. You didn’t answer."

"Ah, sorry—I was showering."

"...Listen."

"Hm?"

"Even after just one month, your *girl skills* skyrocketed. Are you even a guy?"

Yuki’s dead-fish stare pressed down like a physical weight. Moyu Manatsu forced a weak laugh, avoiding her eyes.

Only Yuki knew Moyu’s secret: one month ago, for reasons unknown, Hayashi Moyu had woken up in a girl’s body. Yuki had been her lifeline. Moyu owed her everything.

"Hey, you damn *okama*—stop staring. I’m not into girls."

Yuki’s flat gaze made Moyu squirm.

"Ah! We’re late! Let’s go!"

Moyu charged forward—only to trip on the stairs. A yelp echoed as she tumbled down.

Yuki sighed, watching her scramble up. "What are you *doing*... I wish I didn’t know you."

"Rude! Show some sympathy!" Moyu grumbled, brushing dust off her uniform.

"Be grateful you’re not wearing a skirt. Your panties would’ve flashed the whole neighborhood."

Yuki strode past, used to her antics. Moyu hurried after her.

Walking side by side to the train station, Yuki finally spoke.

"Have you... told your parents yet?"

She meant the transformation.

Moyu fell silent. The air thickened. They boarded the train without another word. Yuki bit her tongue, regretting her bluntness.

Moyu wasn’t hiding it—she just didn’t know *how* to tell them. The fear of complications held her back.

"Yuki." Moyu’s voice was quiet after a long pause. "Thanks. But this... is my problem to solve."

Yuki met her bitter smile and nodded. "I see."

Moyu hadn’t given up. She was still searching for answers—for a way back.

At school, students flooded the gates: walkers, cyclists, even chauffeured arrivals.

"Morning, Class Rep!"

"Morning." Yuki nodded.

"Morning, Class Rep!"

"Good morning."

"Morning, Yuki-chaaan!"

"Morning."

Polite replies flowed effortlessly. Beside her, the cap-wearing girl in boy’s clothes drew no greetings.

*Yuki’s so popular...*

Moyu slipped into class unnoticed. *Pathetic. But... whatever. I’m used to it.*

She dumped her bag, pulled out a token textbook, and planned to stare out the window all lesson.

Yuki, meanwhile, neatly arranged her notes, already prepping for class.

"Hey, Yuki-chaaan~" A bubbly classmate leaned in. "Lately, you’ve been walking to school with Hayashi-kun. And home together too! Are you two... *dating*?"

Yuki felt a chill. "Hanae, you’re imagining things. Our routes just happen to overlap."

"Pfft—since when do you *bother* with coincidences? You hate trouble!"

"It’s just walking home. Seriously?"

"You underestimate your charm! The guys you’ve rejected could fill a stadium. Now some nobody guy suddenly—"

"Actually... she’s pretty noticeable."

"Hoooh? Defending her already? *Denial!*"

"I said it’s *not like that*! Stop fantasizing!"

Moyu, oblivious, was already daydreaming by the window.

Math class. Ten minutes in, she was face-down on her desk, fast asleep. Her cap hid her face—a deliberate shield.

She’d always been invisible. Even as a boy. Now, as a girl? No change.

"*Hayashi!*"

"*Yes, Sensei!*"

She jolted upright. The teacher’s thunderous expression promised doom.

"Hayashi. Solve this problem."

Smirks flickered across the classroom.

"Uh... um..."

The equation on the board might as well have been alien script. *I’m doomed!*

"*Square root of three...*" Yuki mouthed silently, hiding behind her hand.

Moyu strained to hear—but the teacher’s glare snapped toward Yuki. *Scary!*

Yuki’s eyes darted between the furious teacher and Moyu’s pleading gaze. *If she gets it wrong, she’ll be punished... but if he catches me...*

Desperate, she shaped the words without sound: *Square. Root. Three.*

Moyu’s eyes lit up. *She got it!* Yuki relaxed.

"*With Xiao San!*"

Silence.

Yuki’s pen clattered to the floor. The teacher’s chalk snapped in his grip.

Twenty years of teaching—and this was the moment he most wanted to commit murder.

"*MOYU MANATSU!!!*"

His roar shook the hallway. Teachers in the staff room nearly spilled their coffee.

"*Get. Out. There!*"

"Ahhh! I’m sorry! Don’t throw chalk at me!"

"*HAHAHAHAHA!!!*"

Amid thunderous laughter, Moyu Manatsu stood in the corridor, buckets of water dangling from each arm, tears welling in her eyes.

Yuki sat at her desk, hands covering her face. Who could fathom the depth of her inner turmoil right now?

Meanwhile, our classmate Moyu Manatsu walked down the corridor, bucket in hand, tears streaming down her face. Her heart ached with a grievance too profound for words.