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Ever since they’d been about three years old, Akiyama Mizuki had known they weren’t a boy. Their older sister had helped them work out what exactly it was that had been troubling them, but once they’d learned what being trans was – been old enough to conceptualize what it was – Mizuki had known she was a girl.
It wasn’t like this revelation immediately opened every mental door in child Mizuki’s head. There were still things Mizuki would not do – could not do, for fear of bullying – and even with all the love and cute clothes in the world, some of her classmates would never understand that Mizuki was not a boy. No matter how much she tried to explain herself, they would only ever see her for what the doctor had said she was based off of what she’d been born with.
Oh, well. If they didn’t see that Mizuki was a girl, they’d just miss out on all the cute and cool things they could’ve done by being good friends to her!
At least, that was what Yuuki said. And while Mizuki’s older sister hadn’t been wrong yet, those words she’d said were getting harder to believe. It was difficult to go to school every day and face a thousand eyes looking at you with the utmost derision. The whispers were almost worse; how was Mizuki meant to defend herself against an onslaught of rumors made up by people she had never spoken to?
The words stung her soul like thorns poked into her skin. The words, the lies, the fear.... It made Mizuki afraid, and with that fear, they retreated into the body of a person who was not them. The scissors cut off their hair at the start of second year of middle school, and the rumors died down. People approached Mizuki with genuine smiles, with the intent to be friends, or at least they seemed to. Rui was still their only true friend – the only person who saw Mizuki for Mizuki – and she liked it that way. It was almost as if having a small circle who understood her was easier than trying to please everyone.
Still, Mizuki kept their hair short and their clothes masculine until the pain spread from their mind to their arms, to their chest, and to their legs. The dull ache of knowing they were just a shell of a person, living in a body that made them feel as if they had never been truly alive, had suddenly become a tangible pain.
Yuuki was kind. She listened to Mizuki speak for hours on end when she needed to cry and rant about awful days at school.
It was in her arms that Mizuki finally broke down.
The tears began to fall from her eyes when Yuuki asked what was wrong, and the truth spilled out of her mouth as if the barrier holding it in place could be broken by sheer compassion. It was said that you could kill someone with kindness; was that not simply breaking down their walls with gentle words until they realized the extent of their actions?
Mizuki was selfish; she did not want her sister to leave. She wanted Yuuki to always be here for her, to always listen as she did, and to always care. It wouldn’t be the same if they were in different countries. Nothing would.
Saying goodbye to Yuuki at the airport a week after the worst breakdown Mizuki had ever had was the scariest thing she’d ever done.
Growing out her hair and letting her cute side show was a little less scary because Yuuki was behind her, even if she was in Paris. Some part of Mizuki had decided that getting rid of the pain of looking at herself in the mirror might just be worth the stab wounds inflicted by callous words at school, and to an extent, the rational part of her believed that.
After about a year, it was easier to glance at the mirror and see someone she wanted to be. Mizuki moved the blanket up so it only covered the place where her face would be. It felt right.
School got worse. It had always been difficult – Mizuki had always struggled to pretend she was a boy and to feel comfortable doing so – but now it was worse. Some of the people in her classes knew her from elementary school, when she’d had the childish bravery to wear what she pleased. They were the ones who hit her the worst, stabbed her with everything they had. They remembered. They knew .
Of course, there were people Mizuki had never met before in her school life. Shiraishi An was one such person, and she’d instantly clocked Mizuki as a girl in need of a friend.
(The fact that she’d instantly read Mizuki as female and offered to switch her bow for Mizuki’s tie definitely let Mizuki give her some points in the friendship department.)
The only escapes Mizuki had from her mind’s prison and the bullies at her school were spending time with An or Rui after school and late nights online with people she almost never met up with in real life. Kanade and Mafuyu and Ena were the only people Mizuki knew who weren’t aware that she wasn’t born a girl.
Most days, that was good. Others...
Mizuki wanted them to be able to see her for who she was. To be honest with them was a task unlike those of Heracles and she was scared of the alternative. If Ena didn’t see her as a girl after learning who Mizuki really was – would she be able to spend time with Nightcord anymore? Would the pain be worth it to spend time with everyone? What about Kanade and Mafuyu? Would they understand everything Mizuki would need to tell them?
She didn’t know. A part of her didn’t want to know. Because while the pain of hiding was strong, the fear of being found out was stronger, and it won. Every time.
But Ena – kind Ena, understanding Ena – had known something was wrong, and God , did Mizuki ever want to tell her. Cry into her shoulder and tell her everything. That was one thing they would never allow themself to do no matter how much they wanted to. Ena didn’t need to be burdened with Mizuki’s problems; she had enough of her own. She said she’d wait. Until you’re ready. Mizuki engraved those words onto her heart and felt the ache every time she thought she could try to say something. Tell Ena everything, let her break down all the walls Mizuki had built up for themself and tell her she was loved.
But to do that would mean to risk Ena hating her or pitying her out of some sick sense of twisted compassion; or even to wish Mizuki was no longer her friend because of who she was. Really, losing Ena and the others would be the worst thing that could happen to Mizuki, because then who else would she have? They knew her soul better than her other friends, in a way.
She sat across from Ena at some random cafe that apparently had just come out with a cheesecake that was “perfect for social media”. After about ten rounds of selfies, Ena finally put her phone down. “So,” she said, “how are you?”
Mizuki could play that game. “Cute as always,” they responded. “And you, Enanan?”
Ena frowned. “If you’re thinking I didn’t plan my outfit, you’re not as smart as you look.”
“Aww, Ena thinks I look smart !” Mizuki pointed her fork at Ena as if to accentuate her point.
“That is not what I said,” Ena protested.
Mizuki grinned at her. Catlike, one might say. Secretive. “It’s what you meant ,” she responded.
Ena gave her the death glare in response.
It was little moments like these that really made Mizuki want to have an honest conversation with Ena. After all, their banter was so normal it felt wrong if there wasn’t any, and spending time with Nightcord felt like coming home after a long day. It felt like home .
Mizuki didn’t want to lose her second home.
When it happened – when Ena found out, when Mizuki’s secret was laid bare in the worst way for her to see – the look on Ena’s face was... indecipherable.
Was she scared? Concerned? Disgusted? Mizuki didn’t know and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to find out. After all, if Ena wasn’t accepting of the information she’d just received – if she saw Mizuki as a boy from now – the pain would be so severe as to feel like death. If she hid that sentiment because Mizuki was her friend, the pity would be swords slowly piercing Mizuki’s skin until they hit some internal organs that could not be saved. Mizuki did not want Ena to be kind solely because she felt she had to be; Ena was too good for that. Ena deserved someone better than little broken Mizuki, who couldn’t even tell her the most basic information about herself. Ena deserved to be happy; and Mizuki would not be the one to give that happiness to her.
So they did the only thing they knew how to do.
They ran. Doing their best to ignore Ena’s calls for them to please stop and talk, letting the wind carry them home as their heart, once full of light and hope when they were with Nightcord, quickly filled itself with lead. Heavy was their soul; heavy was the burden on their shoulders.
Mizuki curled up into a ball on their bed and let their traitorous tears fall from their eyes. They’d gotten what they’d wanted. Ena knew.
So why did it hurt so bad?
Why, then, was their heart causing them such pain, such harm? Ena understood their secret now. Why should Mizuki cry?
They did not know when they fell asleep, but they woke up with the worst headache they had ever known.
Mizuki had never felt so powerless and small. They did not go to school; even looking at the building brought back the recent memory of the rooftop. The way the sun painted Ena’s face, so beautiful and yet so horrifying. Ena would never forgive Mizuki for this. She had betrayed Ena’s trust for too long, let herself take too much time to be honest. And what had she gotten for it?
She did not leave the house for a week. An tried to call her; Mizuki’s voicemails list had never been so long. Still, Mizuki did not answer. Their self-imposed exile would only be successful if they did not communicate with others, especially their friends. Mizuki spent most days lying on their floor, wishing it would swallow her up while some anime she’d been watching played quietly in the background. The floor would spit her up if it could; it knew how disgusting she was, how awful of a person she was.
Ena sent her messages every day. Asking her if she was okay. Begging her to reply. Wishing she was alright, wanting her to join in on Nightcord’s calls so they knew she was alive .
Was she alive? She didn’t know. For all that had happened, she might as well be dead, a shell of a person trapped in a mortal body that might very well be on its way to an early grave. Mizuki did not feel alive, neither did she want to be.
The only person whose notifications she read were Yuuki’s. While Mizuki had said nothing to her sister about Ena, wanting her to be free from concern, she realized that having Yuuki talking to her was more helpful than complete silence broken by the occasional question from her parents. Have you eaten today? Would you like to go for a walk? Do you feel up to talking with us? Mizuki would lie in answering the first question (Yes, Mom, I’ve eaten) , and simply responded no to the others. Yuuki was hopefully unaware of the whole situation, and so Mizuki answered some of her texts with what she hoped was a cheerful demeanor. Others she read, fighting back the urge to ask her sister if now was a good time to call.
Ena kept trying to reach out. Mizuki had always admired her persistence, and she did not deny that she wanted to answer Ena’s calls.
She did not. Undeserving of the kindness that Ena would provide, cruelly leaving her to speak to a voicemail, all because Mizuki was not who Ena had thought she was.
The second week, Mizuki listened to some of Ena’s messages. Some of her anger shone through like a lighthouse in a storm but the main point of all of them was concern . I don’t want you to die. I’m so damn sorry I didn’t react properly. I still think you’re you even after everything. Just... Answer. Please. We can’t do this without you. I can’t do this without you. I love you so much it hurts. You’re amazing and I don’t see you any differently and I just-
Mizuki muted her phone. Was Ena speaking from the heart? Yes, if the muttered curses after every sentence were any indication. But she knew Mizuki didn’t deserve her kindness; why, then, was she reaching out?
Perhaps Ena thought Mizuki was not a monster. Perhaps she wanted to be friends; lovers, even, if the I love you in her message meant what Mizuki thought it meant. (A part of her wanted it to mean that, wanted Ena to love her back because she couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t know Ena.)
Allowing herself to believe that Ena might still want them after what had happened was foolish. So Mizuki did not respond. She looked through all the messages and cried for what she had done. Making Ena worry so... only a monster could do this to their so-called best friend.
Unfortunately, after the second week, Mizuki received a rather concerning message from An:
Forwarded:
Akiyama-san. It is imperative that you attend supplementary lessons beginning next Wednesday to make up for your poor attendance as of late.
The phone slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. Mizuki didn’t remember walking to the bathroom nor closing the door behind her, but she must have, because now she sat on the floor, rocking herself back and forth and trying to push back the wave of nausea-
Her eyes stung with tears and her throat felt tinged with acid all of a sudden. Mizuki glanced at the floor of the bathtub and tried to push back her thoughts for a minute. Her mind cleared enough for her to process what had happened.
God , she’d make her parents worry so much if they saw this. Saw how Mizuki reacted when she realized she had to go to school.
Mizuki closed her eyes. The chorus of death hiding just behind the fortress of her mind suddenly brought down the fortifications and she wished for her final breath. Her heartbeat rose to match the beat of the melody. She might’ve screamed; she did not know if the sound that ripped out of her throat was a whisper or a last battle cry. Did it matter? She wanted to die. If anything, that mattered more than her education, but worrying her parents... that was not an option. Mizuki had to be strong for them. For Ena, but she’d already let Ena down and now-
It was pitiful to do this. To cry one’s heart out on the bathroom floor, not caring about the mess one had made. Mizuki wanted the pill bottle in the medicine cabinet, the steak knife in the kitchen. The only thing stopping them was their parents’ concerned faces after the school festival, but if she was dead...
They wouldn’t have to worry anymore.
Mizuki forced herself to clean up the mess in the tub, to walk back to her room and clean her outfit up, to change into pajamas and to do the laundry. No one would ever know – could ever know – about this. She would not allow them to find out. Even Ena would find this display of emotion disgusting.
She did not know when she fell asleep, but when she woke up, she found that she regretted not getting the pill bottle and prolonging her rest for all of eternity.
Normally, Mizuki would have complained at length about having to go to supplementary lessons but accepted them as the result of her actions. Today, she’d had to convince herself that getting out of bed was a useful action. Fought herself about the merits of school, wondered what it would be like to plunge into the waters of SEKAI’s lake if such a thing was possible and to stay there until her heart beat no longer.
At least the supplementary lessons began after school had ended. Mizuki wouldn’t have to talk to An or Toya or Akito or any of those people who would want to help her-
Ena.
Ena took night school classes.
Night school classes started just after supplementary classes ended. Ena might’ve done some snooping around and found out about Mizuki’s supplementary lessons. She could’ve planned to wake up early enough and give Mizuki a speech that would be unequivocally true but still unacceptable for them. She could be waiting in the school right now for Mizuki to appear so she could make her apology, and Mizuki would want to accept it, want to listen to her, but she could not allow herself because Ena was too kind for this world when she wanted to be. The nausea was back. She would not, could not, allow herself to give into it in public.
Mizuki let herself be distracted on her path by the new release from Dear Ribbon. It was a simple pleasure, and they’d planned extra time to get to school anyway because it was getting harder to walk without tears running down their face, never mind running.
And Ena, kind, considerate Ena, who knew Mizuki so well and yet not at all, was there.
And Mizuki ran from her. Ran from one of the only people who understood her. Ran because it was the only thing she knew how to do, the only thing she had ever known how to do.
Ena caught up, because of course she did.
She said everything Mizuki’s heart had wanted to hear ever since that day, ever since they’d failed to do the one thing they’d promised her, and Mizuki... couldn’t make herself believe that Ena was trying to hurt her. Couldn’t tell herself that pushing Ena away would be better for the both of them. Ena laid her heart bare for Mizuki to see and what could she do but listen? What could she do but realize how much Ena genuinely cared for her?
Still she tried to dissuade Ena, to make her feel better, to convince her that Mizuki was a burden she didn’t need, but Ena was stubborn and would never let her win such a debate. It was one of the things Mizuki loved about her.
Ena knew her so well it was a little scary sometimes. Mizuki let her speak, let her have the time she needed, because Ena had done the same for her and she owed her that if nothing else.
I don’t want to part ways with Mizuki. If there’s something about me that hurts Mizuki, I’ll work hard so I don’t do it again. Not wanting to hurt you – thinking like that is something I definitely can’t change. You’re a precious friend.
And even through all of this Mizuki doubted that Ena was prepared for what she would be taking on by remaining friends with Mizuki. By staying by the side of an outcast, a social reject, a monster.
Ena... didn’t care. She would rather see Mizuki alive and well and happy and be friends with her than not, even if that meant the stares. The gossip. The comments.
To her, Mizuki was whoever she wanted to be, whoever she said she was. Ena’s friend. Nothing anyone said about Mizuki could change that. She would respect whatever decision Mizuki came to, whatever they chose for themself.
Is it really okay for me to still stay with you?
Ena listened to what Mizuki said, because of course she did. Reassured them, because of course she did.
“Let’s stay together, Mizuki.”
It wasn’t possible for two words to completely reverse years of harm, but in that moment, it was as if they did. Mizuki felt the lead in her heart slowly trickle out even as she cried a waterfall, ruining Ena’s uniform. She didn’t mention it or hold it against them later. That was probably for the best.
Somehow, Ena managed to convince her to stand up again. Went and bought her the ribbon, insisted she’d pay for it.
And then Ena walked her home. It was something couples did, officially, but whether or not they were in a relationship, Mizuki much preferred going places with Ena.
Her heart felt lighter; her soul less burdened. Ena flopped onto the couch in Mizuki’s living room and they sat there for a while, speaking of nothing, holding each other and letting themselves feel everything.
Ena slept over that night out of concern for Mizuki’s mental health. Her parents didn’t much mind even though it was on short notice, and Mizuki definitely wasn’t going to complain about how adorable Ena looked wearing Mizuki’s pajamas. Were they in a more-than-friends kind of relationship, Mizuki would’ve kissed her.
“You’re staring,” Ena accused.
“You look cute,” Mizuki explained.
Ena blushed. “It’s not like your clothes fit me.”
The conversation soon turned into the regular banter, and Mizuki found herself so much at home. This felt good, felt normal, felt happy , and she didn’t want to change it for the world. God, how could she have denied herself the ability to spend time with Ena?
When Mizuki woke up in the morning, Ena was curled up in their arms, nuzzling the crook of their neck, completely asleep. The urge to take a picture of this and send it to her as blackmail was a little tempting, but Mizuki let it be. She wanted to savour the moment for as long as possible, especially the way Ena mumbled little incomprehensible words in her sleep.
God was she ever adorable.
When Ena woke up, the first thing she did was tell Mizuki good morning in a sleepy voice they’d never heard her use before.
Then her lips met Mizuki’s.
Mizuki was in heaven.