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999999999

You know, for a teenager, receiving your first love confession is supposed to be a special occasion. Maybe for some people it will be a little awkward — yeah, I’m sure it would be awkward for some people. It was definitely awkward for me. But if you ask most boys whether or not they fantasize about getting confessions from cute girls, they’ll grin and say, “Yes, absolutely, hell yes,” 100% of the time.

Not that I’m most boys.

It’s a little weird, to me… like high school is a bucket list and this is just another unticked box. What happens when you finish high school, I wonder? Do you just die?

In some ways I guess kids do kind of die when they finish high school. “To achieve adulthood is to kill the child in you,” or so they say. I think they say that anyway. But I know for a fact that, compared to adults, children barely register as people. To become human you must stop being a child. When you graduate, that’s sort of like the first sacrificial stab through the ribs of your adolescence. The younger Have-Nots can only watch in despair as you become one of the Haves.

You are destined to betray yourself.

You will grow out of your hopes and dreams.

You will lose what makes you ‘you.’

Instead you’ll earn a salary!

So having thrown our childhood selves into the abyss, we idolize that transient period of existence called “Youth.” Yet youth perpetually flees from our grasp; ever an unreachable thing, so a great deal of the industrial and creative capacity of this country, and others like it, is fixated on recapturing the idea of that experience. There are grown adults out there who have serious, severe, crippling crushes on fictional high schoolers, who empathize with the metaphorical manifestation of that mysterious being known as the ‘cute girl’ of their halcyon schooldays.

As far as girls go, I think Kanachi Ran could be adequately described as ‘cute’. I’m sure of it — Kanachi Ran is a cute girl, a cute high school girl even. Seated at her desk she is the picture of a demure heartthrob; head in her hands, daydreaming in lectures, stammering as she tries to pass you through the door at the end of the day… she even has a cute nickname: 

Cabbage.

… Well, I think it’s kind of cute, personally, although the origins are a little messy. At some point a teacher told her, “The inside of your head is like a cabbage.” What that was supposed to mean I don’t quite know, but someone in our class playfully pointed out that when you read the first kanji of her family name as ‘kin,’ ‘gold,’ it sounds a little like ‘Kimchi.’ So ‘Kimchi’ stuck for a while, but, well, this is a little painful — after it came out she didn’t have a boyfriend, several boys took to calling her ‘Kimochi’.

It got really bad. 

A couple students in my class were expelled in the aftermath. The teacher, fearing censure, clumsily decided he’d reset the situation by instead insisting students call her ‘Cabbage’ again. On the surface that basically stuck, but behind her back the boys started to call her ‘Kimoi’.

You know, for fans of cute girls, some boys can be pretty disgusting.

Well — not that I’m even some boys.

I’m That Boy;

That boy Kanachi Ran chose;

That boy who doesn’t appreciate love confessions.

Or at least, I was That Boy before this.

“Why me?”

I asked this of her.

Why did I even open my mouth?

At that point there were only four weeks until graduation. I was probably never going to see her again after that. I could have just turned her down immediately and consigned her to an unpleasant memory.

But no, instead I humored her. Maybe it was because I’d never received a confession until now. Maybe I just wanted to hurt myself again. So I stood there and asked that dumb question and got a dumb response back:

“Because I thought —” Kanachi cut herself off mid-sentence, but nonetheless then continued, “— you might like girls.”

Instantly I bristled up. “That’s not a very weird assumption to make.”

I’m a boy after all, I wanted to say.

“No, I mean —” 

Kanachi hesitated again. 

“— I like girls too.”

No way, I thought. 

This is a joke.

I started to feel sick.

“Or, no, I like you. Or, I mean if you think it’s weird —” after a momentary silence, she added, “— I understand. I mean, I’m a girl, and…”

Don’t say it.

Come on.

Just this once, give me a break.

In that moment I felt like I wasn’t really there. I was gone.

“... And, and you’re a girl too.” 

Drowning. Burning. Aching. Hurting.

A hundred emotions just hit me all at once. Atop a mountain of troubles, Kanachi Ran was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I don’t think she noticed, but behind her there was a fox.

Watching us.

Watching me.

What a bad joke.

Keekeekee.

“I’m sorry — that isn’t weird, is it?”

Through that stupor I was experiencing, I perceived her. I guess she was getting uncomfortable at my reaction.

This must not be how you expected things would go, huh?

Without saying anything, I turned around and walked away.

Away from that situation.

Away from Kanachi Ran.

“Ah, wait — Kaede!”

She had the self-awareness to not follow me, at least.

As I passed through the halls I was on the border of tears. But thinking about it, I concluded I couldn’t really blame Kanachi for that. I’d been on that precipice for months… years, really.

Kaede…

Lately, I’ve felt glad my parents gave me that name. It’s a vague name. I used to want to change it, but I like it a lot. It suits me. I don’t know if my mom and dad could ever appreciate how much it’s helped me cope with my situation, even if their choice of kanji did cause some trouble when I was younger. But then again, this too was a blessing in disguise; it’s no exaggeration to say that I wouldn’t be the person I am now if not for the fact my name includes the word ‘rice field’ .

I was calm enough in that moment to wonder how Kanachi Ran would have differed if her parents hadn’t cursed her with her first name. This is just my opinion, but I think it might be a form of abuse to write your child’s name with ‘Chaos’.

Chaos, it seems, is something which follows Kanachi everywhere she goes. She is destined to live in mayhem. In that sense I pity her. I can even empathize with her. Maybe we’re alike in some ways; people are always finding ways to make us suffer.

But maybe that’s just how people are — I think that way sometimes.

I left the school.

Kanachi Ran didn’t try to pursue me, didn’t try to correct some mistake she didn’t understand she’d made…

… But the fox, on the other hand, did follow me.

Hoping to lose them, I went to the train station.

Well, the fox followed me there as well. They sat on the edge of the platform and watched me seethe.

Their tail waved back and forth as they sat there.

Swish, swish.

So instead I went for a walk down a busy street.

But the fox was still following me.

I thought I might try to sprint away, but it didn’t look like I’d be able to cross anytime soon. These days I look at a busy street and feel a sort of lump form in my chest. At some point or other I learned better than to run through the traffic.

So I sat down at an empty bus stop. The fox sat down on the seat next to me.

They started kicking with their little feet.

Swish, swish.

What an eyesore.

You think you’re cute, don’t you?

Well, you kind of are.

At least you’re cute. You have that much going for you.

Me? I’m not cute anymore. I’ve become something ugly.

I can’t go back to being like you. I don’t want to go back.

I slid back on the bench.

“There’s something nostalgic about this,” I admitted. “After all, I guess I used to run from my problems.”

I waited a moment for something like a polite “Uh-huh,” or, “I see.”

But the fox did not respond.

I really don’t know what I expected.

If people could only see how ridiculous this looked.

No — it’s not that it looks ridiculous. I am ridiculous. I spent years fighting to just be myself, and I’m being wound up by some schoolgirl’s dumb assumption. People are full of dumb assumptions. What’s another misgendering on the pile? Keekee.

… It wasn’t always this hard.

Initially, I thought it would be a lot worse than it ended up being. In my last semester of middle school, the staff were all so accommodating of my problems — they let me use the right bathrooms, the right changing rooms, the right uniform… I even got some apologies when someone called me a ‘she’ .

High school? Well, for the first year or so it was a real uphill battle with the administration. They sent me in circles; demanded doctor’s notes, insisted on second opinions, insisted on third opinions; I was even told at one point I was being indecent for dressing in the boy’s uniform. When a girl wears pants she’s just being a tomboy. But when I wear pants I’m causing a scene. There was no internal logic to any of it — it’s not that they saw me as a girl pretending to be a boy. They just wanted me to be normal so bad.

I won’t lie to you: it put me back in the hospital a couple times. 

Several times.

These days I can laugh at it, but back then I’d come home I’d bawl my eyes out.

I really can only laugh at it now. All my frayed nerves were such a problem for other people. I was pretty touch-and-go for a few months there. My parents got good at noticing when I was at my breaking point.

It was better after the first year. In my second year, the staff learned not to bother me. Then the superintendent quit before my third year. The old crone who replaced him made things a problem all over again.

Have to wear a skirt, don’t have to wear a skirt. Don’t go near the boys’ changing room, use the boys’ changing room. They kept flip-flopping the rules on me, kept adding extra steps. I kid you not, I started one week in the first semester in pants, ended the first day with spats and a skirt, and by Saturday I was back in pants again. They said I couldn’t wear a binder until my parents threatened to go to court. It got better, afterwards. But why were grownups so obsessed over my body?

An old question came to mind: will things ever get any better?

I still don’t know what career path I want to take. I’ve put off going to college and said I’m taking a gap year, but really I don’t even know what sort of university I want to attend. My grades ended up alright. But the thing keeping me up at night is knowing someone in admissions will see my gender markers, and then a whole new onslaught of badgering and pestering and doubting will rain down on me.

In order to be acknowledged, I have to undergo sterilization surgery; in order to undergo surgery, I have to have an adult diagnosis. I have a provisional diagnosis for now, but I’m too young for the surgery… and besides, I’m not even sure if I want the surgery in the first place.

The thought that someone will take a scalpel to me

Take me apart

Makes me ill.

Yet I have to twist the knife to be recognized as a human.

So I ask myself:

Do I even have a future?

“Hey,” I said to the fox, “I can’t really be normal, can I?”

To my immense amazement — the fox didn’t respond.

“I didn’t really want to be normal before now. But these days I kind of wish I’d had a chance to be normal. Maybe if I was normal I’d have more friends. Normal, normal, normal…” 

I can say I was lucky in middle school. My parents learned their lesson. My friends stuck by me. Then I graduated. Nowadays none of them talk with one-another, let alone me. I was causing a real riot in the administration offices, but after a certain point in high school I learned to keep my head down in class. Nobody talked to me, nobody bothered me, and I didn’t talk to anyone. Nobody knew what my deal was.

I can surmise that students assumed I was a girl who liked pants.

“Maybe I could have a relationship by now. Maybe I could have responded to Kanachi like a normal person, if that were the case. Ah, but what am I saying — she’s not normal either. She likes girls.”

I sighed.

Then I bumped my head on the back of the bus shelter.  To say “I liked the pain” or something would be dumb, but I just kept bonking the back of my head against it. Maybe it might actually hurt, eventually.

“It could be worse,” I whispered, still knocking my noggin on the shelter. Still didn’t really hurt. “I could have it way worse. At least I live in this country, right? At least things aren’t as bad as they used to be.”

People told me stuff like that all the time — nurses, doctors, licensed therapists. “It’s not as bad as it is there,” they say — as if I’m better off knowing how awful the world is. I’m not better off. If other people have it worse in other countries, then I don’t know how I’ll make it. If others can somehow survive this when it’s worse than it is here — I think that just means that I won’t be able to survive.

“But it could be worse.” Eventually I learned not to cry at that.

Boys don’t cry, 

Or something like that.

“I know I can’t be normal,” I whispered. “I’m not allowed to be normal. Normal is unachievable for me. I’m just a fox pretending to be a person. Just like you.”

The fox didn’t answer me.

That which isn’t normal doesn’t exist.

What isn’t normal is aberrant.

When did I become an oddity again? Maybe it was that time I ran away from home. Or — maybe I was an oddity from the start.

When I get to college, it’ll just be more of the same again.

Oddities don’t have a future.

What would that man say to me, if he saw me like this now?

Maybe he’d shrug and say, “That’s life, though. Nothing’s normal, everything’s the same. There’s no future for anyone, just the present.”

My memories of Kaiki Deishū tell me he was the kind of guy who’d say something abrasive but well-meaning; and then knowing he just made a hash of it he’d take you out for ice cream.

Not everything in life will be hardship.

There will be plenty of things to enjoy.

Man… he really was a con-artist, huh?

I kind of miss him though.

I was sick of trying to crack my skull open on a plastic bus shelter, so I stood up. The pedestrian crossing timer was in the single digits; I decided I’d go for a walk.

I began to move, but I paused when I realized the fox was still at the shelter, waiting for the traffic in front of them to stop.

I think they wanted to cross in the middle of the street. I wasn’t going to allow that, so I took them by their hand. Or rather, their paw, I guess.

“We’ll go together,” I said.

I lead them over to the crossing.

And then, uh, we crossed.

Man, I’m boring now.

But the fox didn’t judge me, at least.

In fact, they said nothing.

And so there I was, a high schooler wandering town with a fox all dressed up like they were ready for summer festival.

Speaking of —

“Hey,” I said, “You’ve got your yukata on right-over-left.”

They looked up at me.

Then, knowingly, as if they were in on some joke,

They smiled at me.

Ahh, this is kind of cute, I thought, silly, but really cute. I felt a little better while we walked.

My thoughts turned back to that old man. I decided I might want to meet him again, someday. 

What would I say to him, after the last few years? 

Probably something like, “Life’s hard now, but I’m happy I’m still here.” No, that wouldn’t be fully true. I don’t know if I’m happy or not. 

If I had to say, I wasn’t happy. This isn’t a happy situation. But I think I knew it would be that way from the start. So I imagine he would probably be unimpressed whether I said I was unhappy or if I just lied. Maybe I should punch him instead, then? People probably punch him a lot, or threaten to punch him, so that would probably be boring too.

At this point we were on the edge of town, near the fox forest. There was a rest area where the street had stopped. After that the sidewalk merged into a path up the wooded hill. I kept going, with my fox friend still with me, hand in hand.

If I ever meet Kaiki again, I’ll tell him, “I’m still alive.”

Forget the future — I’m still here right now.

And we’ll just leave it at that.

I stopped. We had arrived at our destination.

… Destination? Was I going somewhere?

Ah.

That’s right.

On top of this hill is an empty little shrine; a place of worship without worshippers, without anything to worship…

A useless place, really. All it’s good for is appearances.

There used to be a fox here. It’s gone now.

It’s not that I really ever cared about the shrine, anyway. I visited once with my parents when there was still something enshrined on the grounds — but when they weren’t looking I snuck off into the woods. That’s where I found my little spot; the place where I tried to reach enlightenment. Thinking back on it, the foxes never did bother me. I think they liked me. All well and good; I like them too.

There was one last set of steps before the shrine. I looked down at the fox following me.

But they were gone. At some point along the hill path they must have slipped from my hand.

I was a little disappointed by that… a little hurt, if I’m being honest. Dejected, I climbed those final steps.

And,

“Welcome, Kaede-kun! You’re right on time.”

There was a woman:

Gaen Izuko.

I remembered her. We had met only once before. She visited me when I was in the hospital after my first suicide attempt. At the time she told me she was a friend of Kaiki’s — but I got the impression from him that maybe they weren’t really friends. In fact, from how Kaiki reacted to the mere mention of her name, she came off as a dangerous person.

I blinked.

It was uncanny, meeting someone like her here.

Like she’d been planning on this. Like I’d been planning to meet her.

“What’s this? When your elders greet you, it’s only appropriate to return the favor, Kaede-kun. But don’t feel as if I’m demanding you kowtow before me. Mutual courtesies exist for a reason, you know; if I didn’t already have respect for you, then I wouldn’t deign to say hello in the first place. To bow your head to someone is to trust they will humbly bow their head to you in kind.”

… But you didn’t bow your head. You just stood there and said hello.

Something about her made me nervous.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Forgive me, but you talk like you knew I was coming.”

I kind of just wandered here, yet here she is, waiting and talking like we’d arranged to meet here.

She laughed at this.

“That’s not surprising at all, Kaede-kun! After all — ah, but wait, I suppose Deishū never explained to you…”

Huh?

“… But then again, it wouldn’t pose any problems to just say it. It’s not something that needs to be explained since, clearly, you already have the preconception that we’re strange people. It suits my purposes just fine to let you go on believing that’s all there is to it.”

Um?

“Now then! Let me just say this one thing, just to get it out of the way: of course I knew you’d be here, Kaede-kun… I know everything. There isn’t anything I don’t know.”

I see… this is the sort of person you are.

Dangerous, and definitely not normal, either.

“It’s quite convenient for me that things played out the way they did today. I was hoping to speak with you, and I needed to assess the state of this shrine, so we’re really killing two birds with a single stone. On that note, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive Kanachi Ran’s ignorance. She’s another of those types who want to do good but just can’t figure out where to start.”

What, have you been watching me or something? “It’s not Kanachi’s ignorance which upsets me. Really, she didn’t do anything she could have avoided. Most of that is my fault, anyway.”

“That’s a very mature way to put it, Kaede-kun! But I think you should cut yourself a little slack. Children should be blaming others when they make mistakes, no matter how reasonable. It’s a disservice to sweet little Ran to not hold her accountable. She’s only human. Only the mistakes of a machine are the sole responsibility of a third party. Kaede-kun, next time you see Kanachi Ran, you should let her apologize for herself before you go forgiving her.”

I’m sure she thought addressing me as ‘Kaede-kun’ would be cute, but to me it’s just annoying. We’ve only met once. It’s like she was talking down to a preschooler.

“Now, Kaede-kun, if we’re past greetings, I’d like to just say that I’m here for two things: the first thing is something I’m absolutely going to give you, and the other is something I’ll simply offer you. But there’s one little detail I want to correct before we continue… you and I have actually met twice.”

At first I just stood there with my mouth open. Either she read my mind or she wasn’t kidding around when she said she knows everything. I’ve met enough weirdos in the last few years that I knew better than to be incredulous. So I asked, “The only time I remember is in the ward. When else have we ever interacted?”

“When you were only a few years old, actually. As an infant you were terribly sick for a time, and it had some lasting effects on your health. Your parents were acquaintances of my older sister — it was on her recommendation that they took you to my university’s student hospital to receive therapy. I came to know them through that period as well… as did your Auntie, Saitomi Shiori. She and I were, of course, already acquainted.”

All of that at once hit me like a huge wave. I didn’t want to appear amazed by any of this information, not in front of this woman, but nevertheless…

It’s strange, how small the world feels. Out of the billions of people on earth, of the millions in Japan alone, the same crowd keeps showing up in my life.

“So if you know everything, then did you know by that point what was going to happen to me?”

“I didn’t. At that time I wasn’t omniscient. That incident didn’t happen for another year or two… but my sister? I’d be willing to bet my phones she knew straight away the gist of what was going to happen.”

“Was your sister the same way you are?”

It seemed to me like Gaen’s smile faded there. “Not at all. Speaking candidly, if I really had to compare with that woman, my omniscience is akin to taking hints from the script. You could say I have a strategy guide. For Tooe, though, understanding was reflexive. She could look at you and understand your situation immediately. I wouldn’t put it past her to have tricked Shiori and me into meeting your parents just so that things could turn out the way they have.”

“Something about that makes me uncomfortable, I have to admit. The feeling that my trauma was all staged by someone… it makes me a little uncomfortable.” I wish she could have found a way to do it painlessly.

Gaen laughed — the sincerity of her laugh was disarming. “It is a little frightening, isn’t it! My sister was a scary person, for sure.” 

Suddenly, Gaen felt less intimidating; nothing about the way she talked to me there felt condescending. I got the sense she considered this sister of hers to be our mutual wound — a thing over which we could bond. But still, if only out of respect for the man who saved my life, I felt I needed to doubt her intentions.

But at least I’d hear her out.

“I guess this is how Deishū must feel,” said Gaen. “But I fear that was the sort of relationship I had with my sister in the latter part of her life. I won’t bother you with the details of my family circumstances, but I’m still not empty of regrets when it comes to my Big Sis. Many times it feels like I’m still filling the gap she left behind. But that’s surely how life is for everyone: we’re all constantly wrestling with our own insignificance. We’re always stealing the limelight from someone who deserves it more than we do. If I had any piece of decent advice for you, while you still have your youth, it would be to never give in to impostor syndrome.”

“You mentioned Kaiki-san,” I noted. By first name, without an honorific. “Is he here too?”

Gaen Izuko shook her head. “I’m afraid not. Deishū keeps his distance from me these days. Well, really, he always did. Ever since he quit college, he’s lived like a vagabond, but I did count him as an employee for many years. That, however, is at an end as well.”

“Well, even if you aren’t working together anymore, have you at least heard from him at all?”

She looked at me for a moment like I’d made her think about something. 

“Not recently, no,” she eventually said. “He’s stubborn and dramatic like that. I’ll give him a call if I ever need him, though. For now, just be aware that he’s off someplace, far away from here. Incidentally, it’s only fair for me to tell you that he was strongly opposed to me ever speaking with you again.” 

For such an irresponsible guy, he sure cared a lot. Was he one of those tsundere types?

“Well, that figures. I thought I might like to see him again.”

“For what purpose, might I ask?”

Having asked myself that exact question earlier, I nevertheless thought about it for a moment. “I just thought I’d tell him about how I’m doing. I could have used his advice.”

“If Deishū only had the courage to admit it, he’d probably tell you that his advice isn’t what’s important so much as how you interpret it. I’m sure he’d approve of me asserting that he’s no guru. He’s just a foolish middle-aged man on the run from the law.”

I almost laughed at that. “From what little I know, I can definitely picture that. But Gaen-san, can I ask you something?”

“Certainly! And feel free to call me Big Sis!”

Certainly, I’ll feel free, but I won’t do that.

I asked, “Can you tell me what kind of person Kaiki-san was like in college?”

“That’s straightforward enough. He was more or less the same as he is now, truthfully — dishonest and fairly lazy; more interested in finding convoluted ways to get around the rules than to actually follow the rules. And he was a ruthless contrarian.”

“Sounds like he’s an unpleasant person to be around, when you put it like that. Is that really the case?”

“For sure! He and I used to butt heads endlessly. He always found some nonsense to argue about. Not just the two of us, but him and another club member of ours too. Besides Shiori, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say the only other person he got along with was Meme… ah, not that you know him, but Meme found ways to get along with just about everyone.”

“Shiori, huh.” I thought for a second. “What was their relationship like?”

“Flimsy, at best,” Gaen said so, bluntly, like she was condemning the relationship in hindsight. “Part of that was appearances on Deishū’s part. It’s definitely true that he initiated intimacy with her on really petty terms. But I think he liked to project to others that he could dump her at any moment. I don’t think he had it in him, really. He treated her reasonably well, if a bit awkwardly. But for her part Saitomi Shiori didn’t really mind that she was dating a man with the personality of a splintery board. When they broke up, it was sudden, and it was bad. That was just another of the many, many things Deishū handled poorly at the end of his time in college.

“Incidentally, you might have heard that nickname Shiori used for him. I was the one who came up with it.”

“What! You came up with that cutesy lovers’ pet name?”

Deishun this, Deishun that.

It’s gotten really popular.

“Guilty as charged! He utterly despised it from the moment he first heard it. I got to see him suffer, and Shiori was happy to have a special name just for her use. So I think it was a net-positive for everyone.”

It was so ridiculous that I laughed.

We both shared in that laughter for a moment.

Then, Gaen's smile turned to a sober frown. “Kaede, I think I should point out that your Auntie thought very highly of you.” 

Huh.

I always liked Auntie Shiori. I remember as a kid she’d have a new gift for me every time we met. She would often babysit for me, too. I feel like I caused her a lot of trouble — but she was always patient nonetheless.

I remember patience was a defining trait of hers. Maybe that’s how she put up with someone like Kaiki Deishū.

“While you were visiting the hospital as a toddler, Saitomi was waging one of her countless fights with her weak constitution. School put a dire strain on her, but yet she refused to slow down. That determination nearly broke her.”

Auntie Shiori.

Eternally bubbly, never a complaint to be heard; always happy to play, always happy to help, always happy to pour her whole being into every little thing. I think I took her for granted.

Thinking about this, my mood darkened a bit. 

“Knowing her,” I mused, “I bet she tried to help me somehow.”

“Not quite. She asked about you a lot, though. In truth, watching you recover taught Shiori the importance of a little moderation. She really rooted for you… wanted you to be healthy, and happy. 

“She would have said Kaiki is what saved her from total collapse in university, but really she worked hard for your sake.”

This was a lot for me. I wanted to be done with my grief. I thought I was done grieving. But when do you really stop? I feel like I needed Auntie Shiori’s help throughout the last three years and I’ve been sorely missing it.

My parents care about me, sure. All they needed was a little jolt to realize their mistake. I appreciate how they worked to understand me.

But out of everyone around me, it feels like Saitomi Shiori was the only person who truly understood me; what I was going through.

“I wonder what Auntie Shiori would think of me right now,” I mused.

Rather than let that off-hand comment go, Gaen spoke up. “It’s a given that she’d be deeply worried about you. Kaede-kun, I’m going to point out the obvious to you, but I’m tired of how hard you’ve been trying to avoid it: you have every right to be angry. Your situation isn’t a happy one.

“People have told you to be thankful that things aren’t worse than they are — do you really think that’s a statement worth even hearing? I don’t need to know everything to see that you’re struggling with the pressure to accept what others tell you. If you’re hoping that Deishū can clear things up for you, tell you what the right way to think is, then you probably shouldn’t bother. He doesn’t have any lifesaving advice for you. He’s just a fake.”

“That’s not—”

“I understand. What he did for you was good. Given the circumstances he did all that could be expected of him, or of anyone for that matter. But even if he didn’t really have time to prepare a better solution, I’m a little annoyed at how he chose to handle your situation. It seems he didn’t quite make the point clear enough. You don’t need Kaiki Deishū to validate your existence. You don’t need me to do it either. In fact, that’s the last thing you could need. I don’t want you to assume you need someone else’s permission to exist. The lesson Deishū tried to teach you was that you are the sole arbiter of your identity. So please, do not seek out a sympathetic hand from adults like us. That’s a surefire road to disaster.”

Don’t trust others to tell you who you are.

Don’t let yourself be roped in by kind words alone.

That’s just common decency. If there was anything I needed to hear, I think that was it — being a good person doesn’t mean being your friend.

I think she’s right: that was what Kaiki had tried to teach me all along.

“Thank you. But Gaen-san, I think I can gather why you’re here,” I told her. “It’s clear to me you’re not just planning to give me advice. So, are you trying to recruit me for something?”

“That’s a good guess, Kaede-kun! It’s regrettable that you went and spoiled things right then and there. But that’s only half of it, really; the second half of what I intended to say you. So I suppose I’ll go ahead and present you with the first half…” 

She reached into one of her pockets. It looked to me like it was a really full pocket. She had at least two different smartphones in there.

But from between the two phones she produced an envelope.

“Yoshinari Kaede. When Saitomi Shiori died, her will named two people as beneficiaries of her estate. The first person was Kaiki Deishū.” She held the envelope out in front of herself. “But as you may or may not be aware, Kaiki Deishū is registered as legally deceased. Therefore he is disqualified from his portion of the inheritance. As per the terms laid out by Shiori, his half has been folded with yours. Accordingly, you are to receive this full benefit at the time you reach the age of majority.”

I blinked.

“The original amount placed in holding by Shiori was roughly fifteen million yen, to be split between the two parties. However, the executor of the estate and I came to an agreement which was within the terms of the will, and the amount was placed into responsible investments for the last couple years. After maturation, and after accounting for taxes and fees, the total you will receive has grown to about twenty million yen.”

I blinked again.

“It might be worth mentioning, Deishū had some limited involvement in choosing investments.”

Auntie Shiori, and Kaiki Deishū.

In a way, they’d been helping me all along.

It doesn’t feel fair to take that money.

Other people are worse off than me, after all.

Why should I get it easy all of a sudden?

“Gaen-san, I don’t know what to say…”

“Then don’t say anything, please,” she walked towards me. “Simply take this envelope. I am aware you don’t yet have plans for after you graduate. With this amount of money, you could live decently for a few years. If you were smart about investment, you could even keep growing it. However, sooner or later, you will need to make a choice about your current situation.”

“You mean about my GID diagnosis.”

“More or less. The choice I’m talking about is something everyone ultimately has to make at your age. But for you, society has insisted on extra tedious pressures such as that.”

She handed me the envelope.

“On to the second thing I have for you, Kaede-kun. As you may understand by now, I am responsible for the operation of a special business… or rather a whole host of adjacent businesses. 

“Among the services rendered by my colleagues, we help people who are in positions like the one in which you found yourself a few years ago. To put it into plain terms, we deal with matters relating to oddities and apparitions.”

“But the fox was dealt with, wasn’t it? You said that I made a good guess, so I’m flattered that you’re wanting to hire me, but without the fox I don’t really know how I could possibly make myself useful to you.”

“There are other ways to make yourself useful,” Gaen explained. “However, you need to understand that simply because Deishū exorcised the apparition called Inari Kaede, you aren’t free of the supernatural. Apparitions are attracted to those who have already been touched by the otherworldly. Perhaps you won’t like to hear this, but you will spend the rest of your days just that bit closer to the unreal.

“What that is, however, is a special opportunity for you; a rare talent which gives you a headstart in a special trade.”

As I listened, I looked behind her.

And there was the fox, watching us.

Listening alongside me to the offer.

“You can, of course, decline, Kaede-kun. That would be what Deishū wants you to do. It’s certainly true, mine is not always a safe business. It might pay well, but the work is often irregular. You might find yourself better off with an ordinary job. Indeed, even if you did start, you could leave at any time.”

“You make it sound completely unappealing. What are the positives, then?”

“I’m simply trying to brace you for the reality of work. Too many people think of their dream jobs as magical, happy things. Some people are able to handle the quirks of the trade better than others. But, if I had to say there was a single great benefit for you? It’s that nobody in my field, nobody employed by me, would ever raise a fuss over something as trivial as your gender.”

If I don’t have to worry about what people think of me, 

If people don’t object to who I am,

Then the diagnosis is irrelevant.

I don’t need to be sterilized — mutilated — before I’m allowed to fit in.

The problem becomes moot.

If I were to take an ordinary career, if I were to attend university like an ordinary person, the same questions which have haunted me for years would still chase me.

Why can’t you be normal?

I’m not normal. They know I’m not normal. I was wrong before: it’s not that they want me to just be normal, they simply don’t want me to exist, all because I can’t be normal.

But what is normal, really? Is hurting other people normal? Is loving others normal? Who’s normal?

Gaen Izuko certainly isn’t normal.

Kaiki Deishū is definitely not normal.

Kanachi Ran isn’t normal either.

Do they need to be? 

Or maybe that’s what makes them human after all.

Normal isn’t something set in stone. So I need to stop letting others tell me I’m not normal. I need to find normalcy for myself.

“I’m not telling you that your choice is between happiness and unhappiness,” said Gaen. “Truthfully, I don’t see a reason why any particular choice will make you happy.”

“You’re right. But then again, should we even try to be happy?” I grinned. “I’ll be happy, someday. Thanks for the offer, Gaen-san. I’ll consider it. Before I do anything, I need to graduate from school.”

And I needed to clear things up with Kanachi.

Gaen nodded. “Then, I’ll be in touch after you’ve graduated. But for now, there’s one last thing you should address…”

She stepped aside, and pointed to the fox.

They were standing in front of the shrine.

“Kaede-kun, if you ever want to have a future, you must first face your past.”

My past?

No.

I understand now:

My youth.

“Everyone eventually has to come to terms with adulthood. We all have to accept that time is a precious resource. But Kaede-kun, you already smothered your childhood long ago. People gave you little choice but to do so. And ever since then, that act has been lingering over you. When you visited this place, you made a sympathetic connection with it. The absence of a god in that shrine called out for a replacement god. The god it called out for was you, and that was what you nearly were. But something pulled you back…”

I closed my eyes.

“I know what it was.”

The thing which brought me back to reality —

— Was my future.

The chance I had for a new tomorrow. No…

Forget tomorrow; today is all I need. Tomorrow’s an afterthought.

I can’t be a god. I can’t be a Buddha. I found something to live for. I’m finding things to live for. I’ll go on finding more things, too. Maybe I am still a fox, but that doesn’t mean I don’t also get to be human.

There’s nothing really special about being human beyond what we make of ourselves.

The lesson I learned from Kaiki Deishū was to live with karma.

Gaen told me, “If you leave things as they are, it will only get worse in time. You might once again become the fox. And then only oblivion will sate you.”

“I know.”

I stepped forwards.

I dropped my schoolbag, along with the envelope from Auntie Shiori.

And I knelt before the fox. I knelt before myself… 

… That scared child, afraid of what I was, afraid of what I wasn’t; afraid of others, afraid of the future…

Suffering was my enlightenment, or so I thought.

Suffering was my being.

What I needed was an identity.

In some ways I had started to lose sight of who I am, and that’s probably why the fox came back to me.

“I’m sorry I left you behind,” said Yoshinari Kaede to Inari Kaede.

“I’m sorry I ran away,” said Inari Kaede to Yoshinari Kaede.

I wrapped my arms around them. 

They returned my embrace, both arms and then their tail around me.

“Don’t you worry, though. We’ll be together from now on,” I assured them. “We have so much to look forward to. So, come on — wear your yukata left-over-right. I’m not gonna let you die.”

And so, my childhood and I came to an understanding.

In that moment, I understood what adulthood meant.

Inari Kaede was gone.

Or, no, that’s not true at all.

Inari Kaede will never be gone.

I left the shrine in a blur of emotions.

My head hurt and my mouth was dry.

Gaen told me she’d keep in touch. Strangely, she already had my cellphone number, though I don’t remember ever giving it to her.

If I joined her, I knew I was basically creating more trouble between her and Kaiki. 

But on the other hand, I figured if I joined Gaen I might be able to meet him again, someday.

And then I can properly thank him. Or punch him. 

Or both.

Maybe I’ll pay him instead… he’s probably hoping I’ll let him have some of that inheritance.

As I pondered this, I descended the hill.

But at the base, near where the street came to an end, I found Kanachi Ran resting at the bottom of the steps.

“Hey,” I said.

I think she’d been asleep, because she yelped, and shot to her feet.

“Kaede! I-- you-- that is —”

“Take it easy. Just say what you want to say.”

Deep breaths, come on.

Inhale, exhale.

Finally she got her bearings.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” she told me. “I said something really insensitive. I didn’t understand, but I need to apologize for not understanding as well.”

“It is what it is,” I said. “Though, I guess your confession is void. I’m a boy, Kanachi.”

“I! I understand!” she shouted. “I mean — I understand now. That is, I heard everything about your situation. Or at least, I heard something about it. At school, I mean. But, what I said before, I don’t really know. I’ve never felt this way about someone before, you know? So…”

I waited.

She was staring.

I stared back.

“I uh.”

Yeah?

“I like you, Kaede. I think I like you. I think it’s just because it’s you. I don’t know what that means about me. And… I realize there’s not a lot I know about you. But I want to get to know you better and find out for myself.”

“But why’d you say you were into girls, then?”

For possibly the first time in her life up to that point, Kanachi Ran spoke without stuttering:

“I don’t know! I don’t know, alright?! I thought you were a boy at first because you wear a boy’s uniform and my chest got all tingly whenever I passed you in class or you stood up to speak but then a teacher told me you were a girl so I thought maybe I was into girls since I still felt like I liked you but you got upset when I said I liked girls so I didn’t really know what happened but clearly I did something wrong so I wanted to just apologize because despite what people seem to think I can read between the lines and I definitely still like you and I didn’t mean to hurt you, okay! So please forgive me! I don’t know anything, okay ! I just know that I’m really sorry!”

She looked ready to continue shouting. I put my hand over her mouth like I was plugging a burst pipe.

The only thing that I think needs to be understood here is how little Kanachi Ran, that chaotic girl, understands herself. We’re kindred spirits in a way; I don’t really know what I like, either. I don’t know if I like anything at all. 

But that just means I should try and find out.

I smiled at her. “Well, we can start by getting to know each-other. I forgive you for earlier. Things have just been a little difficult lately.”

We talked for a bit, and then we walked home together.

My first confession was anything but normal. But then again, what is?

The next day:

I woke up before my alarm went off. This is typical of me. At the risk of contradicting a certain theme, I might even call it normal. I like to go for a quick jog in the morning before getting ready for school.

Awaiting me on my phone was a message from my mom: “Have a good morning!” That’s another thing you could call normal, as my parents are used to my early-to-rise habits by now.

Swish.

By and large that morning started out normal, for sure. The only unusual thing was that I had a backache. I figured I slept in a bad position or something.

Before I got dressed, I went to the bathroom to splash some cold water my face. I ended up yawning at the mirror while the sink ran. It’s not abnormal for me to be a little groggy.

Swish, swish.

Something that was definitely not normal, though: as I looked into the mirror, I caught a flash of red and white flit past my view. I looked over my shoulder —

— A fox tail.

Out from my tailbone, poking out above the waistband of my boxers, I had grown a big puffy fox’s tail.

It flitted back and forth. Swish, swish, swish.

Good grief.

When I said we’d be together, this isn’t what I had in mind!

… It is cute, though.