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“Help.”
Under most circumstances, picking up the phone and hearing nothing but that word would be at least mildly concerning, but Yukizome has known Munakata for long enough to not be unnecessarily alarmed by his curt, blunt mode of verbal communication. The man never says more than he believes to be necessary – sometimes, that means he will talk for hours; sometimes, it means a single word. There is nothing inherently wrong with that, of course – except he also has an unfortunate tendency to forget that people cannot, in fact, read his mind, which occasionally causes him to omit important information, resulting in cryptic statements that elicit considerably more worry than the situation actually calls for.
“Is it an emergency? Or something less urgent?” Yukizome asks, putting down the dishes she is currently in the process of washing to give Munakata her full attention, “I’m free either way, it’s just-…”
“Yes, I know, sorry - context. It is not an emergency,” he sighs, though he still sounds quite distressed.
“Alright, that’s good. So, what’s the problem?”
"Juzo... got his period this morning. He is upset and in a lot of pain, and I don't know what to do."
"…And when you ask him about it, he just offers some variety of 'don't worry' or 'I'm fine,' even though he clearly isn't?
"Essentially, yes."
She sighs, "I really wish he'd rely on us a little more... I know he's a big, dumb, emotionally constipated tough guy, but it's okay to ask for help."
"He's not dumb," Munakata says sternly, "Otherwise, I agree."
"No, Kyosuke, I-..." she laughs, "I don't actually think he's stupid, it's just banter. But back to the issue at hand; how can I help?"
"I... don't really know. I just figured, since you're a woman, you might-..."
"Kyosuke. You... do realise I don't actually get periods, right...? I'm trans, too."
"Oh. Right,” Munakata says awkwardly, the realisation dawning on him, “Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Chisa, I don't know what I was thinking-..."
"Don’t sweat it,” she gently assures him; Munakata is a little confused sometimes, but he tries his best, and is always supportive, and that is all that truly matters to her.
“I might still be able to help,” she continues, “albeit in a different way. I can't relate to what he's going through physically, but I know how much it sucks when your body looks and acts in a way you'd really prefer it didn't. Besides, I am a high school teacher; I spend five days a week around teenage girls - I've picked up some tips and tricks for dealing with periods throughout the years."
"Thank you, I really appreciate it."
"So, are you two together?"
"Yes...?” Munakata asks rather than states, obviously confused, “We have been dating for almost two years now, you know that."
“No, no, physically, I mean. As in, are you currently in the same building?" Yukizome clarifies.
"Oh... Yes, he stayed the night at my place."
That surprises her a bit; Sakakura usually shuts himself away in his apartment during times like this, hesitant to let her or Munakata interact with him at all.
"I could come over for a bit, if you're both alright with that? Actually, can I talk to him for a moment? If he doesn't mind, of course."
Munakata agrees, and courteously moves away from the phone to call out to his boyfriend without busting her ear drums in the process.
"Juzo...? I, uhm, I have Chisa on the phone. She would like to talk to you. I realise I should probably have asked you before calling her, but-..." Yukizome hears him say.
She cannot make out Sakakura’s reply, but it must have been affirmative, because a moment later the boxer’s voice comes through the phone clearer and much closer:
“Yeah?”
"Hey dumbass."
He grumbles something incomprehensible in response, his voice slightly muffled, probably by a blanket or pillow or something.
"You having a rough time?"
"A bit..." he admits quietly.
"Kyosuke is worried about you. He wants to help, but I think he's afraid of overstepping boundaries, or saying the wrong thing."
"Honestly, it helps to just have him around,” Sakakura admits, “I’ve always been a ‘suffer in silence’ type of guy, but we were having a good time last night, and I didn’t want to leave just because this stupid shit was coming up. He said he didn’t mind, so I was like ‘fuck it, maybe having someone else around will help, actually.’ And it does, kind of. I still feel like shit, though."
"I can come over, too, if you want.”
"I don’t really care, do whatever you feel like."
"Then I'm coming. Even if you don't need the extra comfort and advice, I think he might use some. Besides, I think you do need it - you just don't know how to ask for it. So hang tight; I'll be there in 30 minutes at most!"
"Will you... bring some kind of snacks...?"
"That’s like… asking me if I’ll bring my own legs; of course I’m bringing snacks."
After briefly updating Munakata on the situation and saying goodbye, Yukizome quickly finishes her dishes and heads off to his apartment, stopping by a corner store and a small bakery downtown on the way there.
Munakata must have been pacing around the hall waiting for her to arrive, because she has barely rung the doorbell before he opens.
"Thank you for coming," he says, breathing an audible sigh of relief as she steps inside and takes off her shoes.
To anyone else, he would probably appear as calm and collected as ever, but Yukizome has known him for long enough to notice the subtle signs that he is actually deeply distressed; from the way he repeatedly squints his eyes shut and rubs the bridge of his nose, to the fact that the collar of his shirt is ever so slightly crooked.
"Hey, it's alright," she says, gently squeezing his arm, "I know it's hard to see him in pain, but he will feel better soon, I promise."
“I know, I just… feel helpless, and it makes me stressed.”
She nods in understanding and offers him a sympathetic back pat as he leads her into the living room; while Munakata’s logical, solution-focused approach to life is an invaluable asset to him at work, it also makes it difficult for him to handle situations that cannot be resolved in a neat, practical manner.
“So, uh… Where is he…?” Yukizome asks, glancing around the room.
“In there somewhere,” Munakata says, pointing towards the white, three seat couch in the middle of the room, which is barely even visiable underneath a mountain of fluffy pillows and thick blankets that no sane person would use in the middle of August.
“What?! Is he alive?!”
“Unfortunately…” a small, angry grumble comes from somewhere inside the monstrous amalgamation of textiles.
“What are you doing?!”
“Suffering.”
“Get out of there, you’re going to overheat!”
“No,” Sakakura says, quietly but firmly, and Yukizome instantly knows he is not just being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn, as he often tends to be.
Suddenly, she feels something brush against her arm, and she turns around to see Munakata wordlessly pointing towards the kitchen, so she follows him in there.
“I think Juzo is going to want to stay under the blankets for a little while,” he explains, a small, somber smile briefly gracing his face.
“He is feeling extremely dysphoric at the moment. His chest hurts a lot, so he cannot wear his binder, and he is not very happy about it. I obviously don’t want him to get sick from the heat, but I’m afraid that forcing him to take off the blankets is only going to make him more upset.”
“You are probably right,” Yukizome sighs.
She gets it, she really does. She has been there too, hiding under suffocating layers of fabric in a desperate attempt to separate her body – a body she loathes despite everything it has gotten her through, not because there is anything inherently wrong or unappealing about it, but because it simply never felt like hers, never felt like home – from the rest of the world. These days, it is a blessedly rare occurrence, and it is only partly thanks hormones and surgeries; more than anything, her improved relationship with her own body is a result of her relentless pursuit of self-acceptance, the conscious decision to surround herself with people who acknowledge and love her for the woman she is, and the realisation that her womanhood is an intrinsic part of who understands herself to be – that it is not her responsibility to prove the validity of her own identity to everyone she meets. Most of the time, that is enough; the knowledge that she is loved, and that she is allowed to love herself, precisely as she is. But not always. She has bad days, too. Sometimes, all the love in the world is not enough to silence the anger, and the shame, and the disgust.
So yes, she fully understands why Sakakura would, in that moment, rather die from heatstroke than leave his blanket fortress. She also knows there is probably not a lot she or Munakata can do to help their friend right now, frustrating as it is. Not that it will stop her from trying…
"Alright, let's see if he wants to talk,” she concludes, “If not, we'll try to distract him with snacks and aimless small talk, maybe put on a movie or something. If that does not work either, we might just... have to give him some space and allow him to feel like crap for a while. Either way, the most important thing we can do for him is to stay calm and make sure he is safe and comfortable. And also force him to drink some water."
Munakata nods in agreement.
“Do you want to talk to him alone? I’m… not very good at these things,” he suggests.
“I can try. You can prepare some snacks while we talk, if you don’t mind?” she says, handing over the cake she picked up at the bakery, as well as a shopping bag containing various, less fancy snacks like chocolate bars and crisps.
Having no complaints, Munakata begins unpacking the bag and turns on the coffee machine, while Yukizome goes back to the living room and cautiously approaches the mountain of fabrics resting on the couch.
“Okay, big guy, let’s see if there’s anything we can do to make things slightly less awful for you. Can I sit down next to you?” she asks.
“Fine…” Sakakura mutters.
“First of all, do you want anything for your cramps?” she asks as she feels around the countless pillows and comforters to make sure she does not accidentally sit down on his foot or something.
“Nah, I’ve already had two painkillers and they didn’t do shit,” he says unhappily, and the blanket mountain surprisingly shifts slightly as he moves to the side to make space for her on the couch.
“Just regular, over-the-counter painkillers?”
“Yeah.”
“Right, well, this won’t be of any help right now, but you should definitely ask Kimura for something stronger for next time. Or I can do it for you, if you’re not comfortable doing it yourself. Normally, I’d offer you a heating pad or something, but more heat is probably the last thing you need right now, so that’s off the table. You might just have to suffer through the cramps this time, I’m afraid.”
She sighs, suddenly finding Munakata’s feelings of helplessness very relatable.
“And as for… everything else, well… Knowing you, you probably don’t want to have a long, heartfelt discussion about your deep-rooted fears and insecurities right now, but I just want to remind you that Kyosuke and I are both here if you do want to talk, even if it’s about difficult, uncomfortable things,” she continues, perhaps a bit redundantly.
“I know,” he replies, “and I appreciate it, I do, I just don’t feel like there’s anything to talk about. I hate myself and it feels like there’s a fucking demon trying to claw its way out of my stomach, what the fuck else is new, you know?
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not my stupid fucking uterus, are you? Then you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“Well, no, but-…”
“It’s not fucking fair,” he says, his voice breaking, “I just want to be normal. It’s not even about how other people see me – of course it sucks knowing I’m constantly being misgendered behind my back, even when it’s not on purpose, but that’s not what keeps me awake at night. And it’s not about you or Kyosuke either, because I know you two will always have my back. More than anything, it’s my own feelings that I can’t stand, because I’m stuck with them all day, every day.”
She thinks he might be crying, though it is a little difficult to tell, because the sound is muffled by about a billion layers of fabric.
“Have you given any more thought to the idea of maybe… talking to someone? To a medical professional, I mean. Going to therapy. Whether it’s to simply talk about your feelings and learn to understand and cope with them better, or to pursue some form of medical transition. I know we’ve discussed it before, and I know you don’t like talking about it, but I really think this is something you need professional help with.”
Sakakura has known he is trans for a very long time – longer than her, even – but he has always been hesitant to discuss it with anyone expect her and Kyosuke. Not that she blames him for it; she knows how terrifying it is, knows how much you risk by choosing to open up about that part of your identity.
“Sure, I’ve thought about it.”
“But…?”
“But I’m scared. That’s all there is to it, really – I’m a coward. I’m scared of opening up and being laughed at, I’m scared of doing something I’m going to regret in the future, I’m scared of change, and I’m fucking terrified of hurting Kyosuke in the process.”
“You’re… scared of hurting Kyosuke?” she repeats, confused, “everything else I understand, but how in the world would you be hurting Kyosuke by seeking help for your dysphoria?”
“Because it would… change how people view our relationship. If I decide to come out and start transitioning, we won’t pass as a straight couple anymore. And not everyone is going to be cool with that, because the world is a shitty fucking place sometimes, and I-… I’m scared that him being in love with me, as a man, is going to hurt him.”
His words hit her like a brick in the face. A sad, sad, painful brick.
“Oh my god, Juzo, sweetie, that’s not-… Please don’t say that,” she says, horrified, as she throws her arms around the giant pile of blankets containing her friend without thinking.
“I know you want to protect him, but you can’t force yourself to continue living in a way that makes you deeply unhappy just to keep him out of harm’s way.”
“Sure I can,” Sakakura sobs, ”and I will. I can’t become a burden to him, Chisa, I can’t, I’d hate myself ten times more than I already do.”
“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Can I please remove the blankets from your head? Only your head, I promise. Your breathing is very shallow right now and I really don’t want you to pass out.”
“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, still sobbing, “it does kind of feel like I’m about to die actually.”
“You’re not going to die, honey, you just need to breathe,” Yukizome says, gently parting the top layer of blankets to reveal messy, dark green hair.
Sakakura’s eyes are red and puffy from crying, and he has a deep scowl on his face. He looks a bit like an angry vegetable that has just emerged from the soil, and as sad as it is to see him in such a state, she has to force herself not laugh at the ridiculous visual.
“Alright, breathe with me. In, out – in, out. Don’t think about anything else, just keep breathing, and look at me. You’re going to be okay.”
They stay like that for a few minutes, her mumbling gentle nonsense and wiping his tears away until they stop falling and his breathing steadies.
“We can talk more about this some other time, when you’re a bit more… emotionally stable,” she says once she is confident that he has calmed down sufficiently.
“I’m never emotionally stable,” Sakakura sighs, attempting to retreat back into the safety of his blanket cave, but Yukizome stops him.
“Sorry, no can do. You can keep your body covered if you need to, but you need to drink water and get some air.”
“Where is Kyosuke?”
“In the kitchen. I told him to prepare something to snack on, but now I think he just waiting for us to be done talking.”
“And are we done talking?”
“If you want us to be.”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, I’ll go get him,” Yukizome says before standing up and disappearing into the kitchen.
A moment later she returns with Munakata in tow. He is holding an ornate metal tray containing three small plates of decadent chocolate cake, two cups of coffee and a glass of water, which he places on the coffee table, before sitting down next to Sakakura on the couch.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hey, you,” Sakakura replies.
“How are you feeling?” Munakata asks, leaning in to lightly kiss the tip of his nose.
“I’ll live…”
“Good, I would rather not become a widower at my young age.”
“We’re not even married!”
“Yet…”
“Oh my god, okay, let’s maybe save that discussion for when Juzo is not a total hormonal minefield!” Yukizome interjects, and Sakakura actually smiles a little as he removes one arm from its blanket prison to wrap it around his boyfriend.
“You will never be a burden to me,” Munakata whispers, returning the embrace.
“Ah, shit. You heard that?”
“Yes, and it breaks my heart to know that you feel that way. I don’t care what anyone thinks or says about us. I never have, and I never will. Your happiness is infinitely more important.”
“But-…” Sakakura protests, but Munakata cuts him off:
“There are no ’buts’. I love you, and I want to be with you, and I want you to be true to who you are, because I believe that is what will bring you the most joy in the long run. I will never force you to do anything you are not comfortable with, but if and when you feel ready to come out publicly, whether that involves medical transition or not, I will be with you every step of the way. So please, never force yourself to pretend to be someone you’re not because you think you’re protecting me. Nothing that anyone else says or does could ever hurt me more than the knowledge that you are suffering on my account.”
“I… don’t know what to say,” Sakakura mumbles.
“You don’t have to say anything. Just think about what I’ve said, and try to take it to heart. I will repeat it as many times as you need to hear it.”
“Thank you.”
The three of them hug it out for a while, simply enjoying the quiet safety and comfort of each other’s presence. Sakakura does not say it out loud, but the warm, tight embrace makes it abundantly clear how much he loves and appreciates both of them. By the time they are done, Munakata and Yukizome’s coffee has gone cold, but neither of them seem to mind.
“Oh right, I got cake!” Yukizome exclaims as she finally detangles herself from the group hug and looks up to see the tray resting in the middle of the coffee table.
“She also got ice cream, and crisps, and chocolate, and-…”
“Alright, I might have gone a little overboard, but I wanted to make sure I got something Juzo would like!”
“Cake’s good,” Sakakura says, already reaching for one of the plates, “Cake’s always good.”
“Don’t forget to drink some water,” Yukizome reminds him, making Sakakura roll his eyes, though he still does as she says.
While his cramps do not seem to be letting up, she is relieved to note that he at least seems to be feeling a bit better mentally. He likes the cake so much that he finishes not only his own slice, but most of Munakata’s too, after which he promptly falls asleep in his boyfriend’s arms. Yukizome cosies up on a worn, high back floral armchair next to them – an old hand-me-down from some late, great aunt of Munakata’s that clashes horribly with the rest of the sleek, minimalist décor in the room, and that he only keeps because Yukizome finds it comfortable. She stays around for another couple of hours, quietly working on a small cross-stitching project and idly watching some true crime show that happens to be on, with the sound turned almost all the way down, so as to not disturb Sakakura. Eventually, Munakata falls asleep too, but being a light sleeper, he wakes up again as she gets up to leave. He offers to follow her to the door, but she declines, telling him to stay and let Sakakura sleep a bit longer.
“Will you two be alright?” she whispers.
“I think so,” Munakata replies, “Thank you again.”
“Honestly, I didn’t do much. Like I said, sometimes it’s just a matter of being there and letting people feel whatever it is that they’re feeling. I think the two of you should talk a little as well, because he’s clearly… struggling a little bit with the way that your relationship fits into his gender identity. I know it can be hard to get him to open up, and I understand that you’re nervous about saying the wrong thing, but you’re doing great. You mean the world to him, and he’s infinitely grateful to have you here. Anyway, I still have some chores I need to finish, so I think I’m going to head home for now. But don’t hesitate to call if you need me. I’m always here for you – both of you.”
“The same goes for you. We are here for you, too.”
“I know,” she says, gently taking his hand in hers and squeezing it, before carrying the tray back into the kitchen (normally, she would take care of the dishes, too, but she does not want to make any unnecessary noise, so she simply leaves them on the counter).
Munakata waves goodbye from the couch as she puts her shoes on, and she waves back before quietly slipping out of the apartment. On the way home, she makes a mental note to check in on them again tomorrow, just to make sure that everything is still fine. Things are not always easy, not for any of them, but there is a great sense of comfort in knowing that they always have each other to rely on. By the time she makes it back to her own apartment, it has gotten dark outside, and the evening wind is a little chilly, but Yukizome still feels warm inside knowing that Sakakura is well taken care of, and that she will be too, whenever the time comes for her to feel weak and small and lost.