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Sometimes Philip forgets that he owns his body. It was so long a tool for others that he still fumbles with his own humanity on occasion. Now there are no doctors with monitoring equipment, no machines to be strapped to or trapped within, and certainly no cold-eyed scientists dictating how he is to be used. The glitches in his psyche never last long and now carry the assurance of a support system to usher him back into piloting his mortal shell. But it happens, still. His body is an unfamiliar thing that he neither understands nor competently uses without assistance. Though he wants to be grounded in it to honor his sister he finds himself a stranger to the lanky meat, its frenetic electricity, and that ever mysterious phenomenon that common parlance calls ‘soul’. Philip’s soul, he thinks, is possibly a little malformed in its housing.
There was not much time for introspection in the days of Museum. He was too preoccupied with cases, research, and the upheaval of learning his stolen past for self-contemplation. As the book closes on Utopia, Double’s battles dwindle from a surge to a trickle. The world he can inhabit expands. Then, in Fuuto’s more slumberous periods, Philip finds more time to inspect his personhood. It moves forward slowly at first with all the halting steps of a newborn animal. He thinks, learns, grows. This reckoning with himself is not a case to be solved with any expediency. It is less a map of clues than a dissection of a gadget. He must delicately separate each minute piece, examine its form and function, then reassemble the whole. It could be the work of a lifetime.
Philip is human. This he knows with a certainty born of years of reflection. But what kind of human he has no word for. He does not mind being called 'man' some days as 'woman' never feels correct or comfortable. But 'man' does not sum the whole or the truth of him and is ill-fitting. There is more; such a fullness that it strains the fragile lantern of the form his sister gave him. He thinks of Neesan when he dresses each morning: as he sees an expanse of smooth skin, his somewhat delicate build, contradicted by the anatomy which denotes his birth sex. Philip wonders if there is not some of her living in him now. It would explain, perhaps, had this ambiguity of self not predated his reconstruction.
It had been something he began to think of intermittently when he was brought into the fold of the Narumi Detective Agency. A blushing stain on his manner, his style of dress, the blank canvas where he was filling in what it was to be a man. But Philip was absorbed in calibrating his developing sense of ‘self’ with the demands of becoming a Kamen Rider back then. That he felt out of joint with the gender demonstrated to him and that he clutched at Otherness with overfull hands was not relevant to his work or indeed, anything. Everyone finds him strange regardless. He knew he was different but took no action to deeply interrogate what it meant.
Hyperfixations with other topics make constant interludes on examination of the dissonance between body and identity. It is not something he scrawls across his whiteboards or infodumps to Shoutarou and Aki-chan about. Not a thing given form with sounds and syllables and comprehension. Quietly Philip feels it move in him, wonders in slow lulls and the night’s wakeful moments, yet does not disclose his private investigation. Though it is tempting he does not seek keywords to search the Gaia Library for. It is not that he fears the answer. He forgets, and procrastinates, and finds himself at times so disgruntled with the lack of knowing that it in turn causes him to shove it away.
The day after Aki-chan takes Terui Ryuu’s surname in marriage he falls down a hole of obsession with researching names. Traditions, registers, lineage. Which leads him to realize that he has more names than those furnished to him by ghosts. Though he is grateful for the gift of his name it was given rather than chosen. Like the gender that burdens him in its expectations and boundaries. He has accepted the mantle of ‘Philip’ and it is not onerous--- but he understands the power of names now. That society values receiving them over taking them. Others find meaning and honor in being called by others instead of oneself. And that feels stifling somehow. If Philip is to be named he wants to exert his own power. He was once told that he needed to live by choices and they are thus: he chooses to be human, to be a detective, to be a Kamen Rider, to be Philip. No one has asked if he wants to be ‘boy’.
He doesn’t think he performs well in the name of man. Not in the seamless entirety demanded of him. Certainly, Philip has fluctuating desires that are different to his fellows. Sometimes everything that clothes his bones feels heavy and ugly. He wishes he could change his form just a little, enough to be seen differently than the default masculinity that is assigned to him. He’s never wished for the hard lines of Terui Ryuu, or Shoutarou’s affected coolness, or the breadth of Narumi Soukichi. Not in personality nor in appearance. He admires them but not so far as to feel affinity for them. He doesn’t work like they do even on days where he feels his lanky boyishness settling comfortably. As he grows into an adult he is expected to grow out of indistinct gender. Yet he doesn’t.
It’s more than appearances, something in the thick marrow of his bones, but the surface is where it begins. On any given day he likes the way the women in his life look. They aspire to be pretty and whimsical. Aki-chan tends to opt for the practicality of shorts or trousers but her clothes are cute, her hair done up, her glossy mouth pouting endearingly. Philip remembers Neesan’s skirt fluttering around his thighs and how surprisingly easy it was for him to walk in heels. He does not want to always be so but he tries to emulate some if it with his long vests, quirky hairclips, and lightly shining lips. He wears a shirt with rhinestones on it and a glittering scarf to Aki-chan’s wedding despite the unspoken dress code.
Philip also finds he does not mind being asked to go undercover in dresses and wigs. They feel pleasant sometimes (though he becomes self-conscious when people express shock at discovering his presumed gender). He suspects he could not wear them every day but loves the swirl of fabric when he turns, the daintiness in a dress’ construction, the way long hair falls around his face. If he is feeling feminine a giddy tickle manifests in his belly when someone calls him nice things or looks upon him as worthy of delicate handling. It’s good to be told he is cute and know that his appearance makes him precious. He does not feel he is a girl but sometimes covets some of their experiences.
It would be simpler if he was a man who enjoyed clothing himself in the fashions marketed to women. Though it is not an easy way to live it is something palpable and moderately understood. Perhaps it would even be permissible if he wanted to be a woman. Such percussive shifting as goes on inside him is not something he has ever seen elsewhere. He does not tell anyone that on some days he feels feminine and small in a way that is not in accordance with his body. Even more opaque are the times where he wants to be nothing at all, his identity as amorphous as fog on the sea. Not masculine, not feminine, just an ephemeral being with no borders or rules. Neutral. Yet he feels what he can only describe as masculine sometimes, even if it’s not a match to what he perceives as common. He does not understand himself any better than society will.
Sometimes is scares him to feel that he has no distinct gender. Like he is a rudderless craft trying to steer through rough waters. The ‘outside’ days are the thing he especially doesn’t understand. Philip only knows about two genders and has never thought to investigate a third option. He feels his muscles strain and bones creak under the weight of how much he still does not know about the world. Or about himself. It bothers him to remember that his body has a telling shape, that he can only be misgendered at such times, that there is a (ridiculous) code of conduct that everyone else around him seems to understand. He does not want to be a man or woman. And he wonders what it really means to be either.
People have always been so difficult for Philip to parse. He understands facts and figures easily. They are concrete, changing only when something is disproved, and are easily available to him. But nothing is written about human beings that covers all he needs to know. Over time he learns puzzling unwritten social rules and how to read cues, though they still don’t always make sense to him. With observation he learns what is normal in his world for men and women. Sometimes he is corrected or given an explanation as if this is just one of the many subjects he was not educated on prior to his liberation from the lab. Such rules apply to him, he supposes, but he squirms against the bindings. He can only assume that gender is another thing he is not naturally good at.
Philip’s inner self is a secret like his fears, the birth name he doesn't respond to, the possessiveness he feels when his partner makes overtures to a beautiful lady. So long as no name is given to what he is he can pass as a man who favors pastels. It would not be difficult to inhabit a disingenuous identity. With no easy explanation of his authentic self this would be simpler. Society makes it all too easy to conceal the inner being. The hard part is to pretend he feels like everyone else. He is conditionally allowed to exist within bounds of assumptions about who he is. Boys can be cute--- he sees as much in practice--- but they must know they are men at core. Men wear their gender in their skin. This is not fair. But even on the most uncomfortable days nothing is said of it.
He suspects Shoutarou knows the truth as only a soulmate can. They make one person, after all, even when they inhabit their separate bodies. Opposite sides of a whole present even in their names. Shoutarou is so sure of his identity even if his manhood differs from the one he has long tried to replicate. His gentle earnestness is part of his gender. Yet he has never tried to alter Philip. Aki-chan would probably be supportive with her surprising insight and big heart but he does not want to confuse her with this thing he barely comprehends himself. Terui Ryuu is the one he most worries over confessing to for the detective is solidly resolute and judgmental as a gavel. Philip dares not lose any more family when he can choose to keep it all locked behind his clenched teeth.
It staggers him unexpectedly when he wonders if Neesan would be proud of him. Her mind juxtaposed her brother and sister starkly always. He knew that she loved the memory of him as a short-haired little boy dressed in suits and the role of only son. She had never indicated she minded his teenage presentation but her love held deep roots in the soil of the past. Would she understand? Would she grin with happiness and share her blouses with him? Or would she be infuriated and mourn? Were she present outside his mind he would tell her she has lost nothing nor gained a sister. Philip is not gone or changed. He is who he is and has not been otherwise since he began making choices. When he opens himself to painful imagining he thinks of her smiling in that gentle way she sometimes looked at him, forgiving.
His chosen family soon are actively knowing. It becomes apparent in small things as the years spin out. It begins with Shoutarou, spreads like a ripple to Aki-chan and Terui Ryuu, then faintly touches the shores of the Irregulars’ awareness. Without any articulation he thinks they don’t quite understand but can perhaps accept he is even more different than they supposed. At first no one can tell whether he is feeling masculine, feminine, or betwixt. But the people closest to him learn to look for cues. How his voice lilts and his body language is softer when he’s in a feminine mood, the sharper slant of his movements and blunt voice when he’s more masculine, the way his manner blurs and becomes quieter when he’s neither. Philip is not questioned nor rejected. He is, and they are, and it’s not enough but it is something.
Things start to change with the fullness of time. Philip becomes more and more sure of his fluctuating sense of gender… and lack of a clear binary. The different states are all him, all part of a totality, like his enthusiasm for information and the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. As his certainty and self-acceptance grows expectations from his friends decouple. They try to be good to him though there are a few instances of stumbling and offense. Philip feeling subtly different some days becomes a part of daily life just like Aki-chan’s slipper scoldings and squabbling over who is making the coffee. For all that he fears they do not understand there are times when it seems that maybe he gives them too little credit.
When he is twenty-one there is an instance when he is soft-edged and itchy in his skin for two days straight. It isn’t terribly apparent, as his identity is in flux but never dramatically, but it’s driving him to distraction. He doesn’t know what to do to assuage the discomfort because the things he wants are not within his bounds yet. He is free to behave however he pleases but today he wants to be and seem. It scares him to entertain the idea of presenting as femininely as suits his mood. His chosen family have always taken Philip’s ‘lady’ assignments in stride, going from flustered to blasé the more it happens. But Philip is still wary of making a greater showing. He doesn’t know how yet.
That second day he makes the mistake of snapping at Shoutarou when it is really himself Philip is frustrated with. It’s such a stupid argument roused by an even more pointless cause. If he cannot ignore the sense of weirdness that abrades his brain then he can soothe it by asking for what he needs. Or even taking it himself. But he doesn’t. When he is spoken to harshly Shoutarou stills, clearly repressing a sharp rebuttal, then throws up his hands and leaves first the hanger then the building. A few hours pass. When he hears the door open in the room above Philip creeps up to apologize for his unwarranted ire. Shoutarou approaches him with a clenched fist and Philip steels himself for a punch that never comes.
A tender feeling unfurls silken petals when instead his partner ever so gently slides a glittering heart-shaped clip into his hair right there in the office. It is heavy and large--- not easy to miss or misinterpret. Less a peace offering than an attempt to comfort, Philip senses, done in the typical decisive way. Though he doesn’t pronounce anything Philip feels that it looks good in the satisfied way the man smiles. He can see a bit of pink in the hue of Shoutarou’s skin betraying his consistent awkwardness with affection. But the aspiring hard-boiled detective is determined to make his gesture suave and cool. The flowering inside Philip at this silent but demonstrative acknowledgment blooms radiant and fragrant.
When later Aki-chan spots the clip she exclaims in delight and tugs his head down so she can inspect it. ‘It’s so cute!’ she says without once pausing to consider if this is befitting a man in his early twenties. Not a beat missed or a question hummed. The clip isn’t vastly different from a few he owns, just a little more shiny, but Aki-chan seems to understand that it is special. When she asks where he obtained it he hedges out of respect for Shoutarou’s oft-battered dignity. ‘It was a cheap purchase’, he lies smooth as silk. He should have seen his partner loudly protesting it was NOT cheap coming. Aki-chan chortles, ohohoho, and is duly distracted by her irrepressible need to tease their proud friend. Philip watches their antics with his fingers resting reverently on the hair clip and a glowing smile.
Similarly, Shoutarou respects when Philip wants to be challenged, to be teased and roughhoused with, to be more aligned with the way the world thinks he ought to be. Sometimes it’s easy for Philip to be a man. Not a man inside, perhaps, but masculine in his own way. He is presented with every opportunity to be assertive and competitive. To be a fighter and a champion. Philip knows how to be a brother. Perhaps he would even know how to be a boyfriend, if he was led through it by the courtship rituals he has seen. He has no interest in romance that he is aware of but it’s an option which is anticipated by others. On masculine days things are so much easier.
This is another truth he is learning: Philip doesn’t understand manhood innately. Acting the part is a learned pattern of behavior and for all that people tell him this and that about it he doesn’t think there is any definition beyond a knowledge of ‘I am’ or ‘I am not’. Years ago his black and white logic would dictate that obviously he is because that is what he has been told is a scientific conclusion. But he is learning nuance and the unmaking of things. Some days he feels resonant with aspects he knows are associated with his assigned gender but if he is only saying he is a man because it is expected, is he one really? Can he ever be something he doesn’t feel fully comfortable in? Does he want to?
When Philip is feeling strange in his body and wants to not be perceived as having any gender, his chosen family is careful to not inflame the dysphoria and make a barrier to anyone looking upon him. They learn through experience how to approach him at this time. It’s more difficult than expected because gender performance and its effect on interaction is deeply ingrained in most cultures. It should be simple and universal to not make assumptions or unwanted gestures, Philip thinks, but even he has habits and unconscious bias. So he doesn’t resent it, exactly, but he still struggles when there is too much done or said to make him feel any one way.
Watcherman has gotten a little handsy and excited by the vibes Philip has occasionally given off in his company. He likes girls far too much and would be happy to have another to photograph and coo over. Philip is not a girl but he has never tried to explain why he can seem like one on certain days. Watcherman is one of the people who doesn’t understand Philip as well from lack of experience with these subtle variants. The exuberant man is at a loss when he says something he would only say to a girl, tries to touch Philip affectionately, and the discomfort is so profound that Philip stiffens and hurries away without a word. As he disappears into the hanger he hears the pop of Aki-chan’s slipper and it is a cold comfort.
A short time later Shoutarou comes down to check on his partner. Philip has preoccupied himself with researching the history of the water clock but is still feeling unbalanced— more by the strength of his reaction than to the original trespass. He knows that he is being unnecessarily moody about this. But he has grown complacent with the tolerance of his identity. He doesn’t always feel so strikingly upset by his internal self being misidentified but today he finds it unbearable. It’s difficult to explain that he wants to be something other, something that can’t be clearly seen, like a person whose gender you don’t know yet or an alien lifeform. Shoutarou doesn’t ask what went wrong. Nor does he ask if there is anything he can do. He just sits down on the couch when Philip begins to ramble about the invention of a mercury-powered clepsydra and stays.
Maybe Philip is never what the world wants. But no matter what is going on inside him he always feels wanted with his chosen family. At first Shoutarou was a little flustered by the realization that Philip feels feminine at times. But he never indicates he minds. Aki-chan is the first to ask if he wishes to be addressed differently and the last to misgender him. Even Terui Ryū allays the fears of rejection. After his initial confusion and resistance to acknowledging gender existing beyond anatomy his stubbornness dissolves as sugar in water. The new truth is received with the same surety as the old. Terui Ryuu is the one most likely to bluntly correct someone when necessary. They all support Philip with the same fierceness with which they battle.
Eventually and perhaps inevitably Philip asks for a keyword. He has decided he is ready for something solid. It is Aki-chan he goes to, naturally, the secret genius and worldly one. At first she asks many questions, all meant kindly, and furrows her brow in contemplation. Then her face lights up. She explains to him what x-jendā is and its place in the world. Though she does not know a great deal about the term it was something she learned of in Osaka through a friend who was part of the LGBTQ community. It probably exists in Fuuto as well, she says, but has not been in her field of vision yet. If it is searched for surely it could be found. Philip dissuades her from launching an investigation and goes to do some research.
And so the information gathering begins. Philip researches genders and learns of the numerous variations that have existed through history and across the earth. So many ways to be exist that it is mind-boggling and enlightening. Even in his own culture the gender binary is hardly a monolith. He cycles through the identities searching feverishly for a match. He’s not en effeminate gay man, or transgender by Japan’s definition, or a crossdresser. He comes to x-jendā last through design. Nothing else has felt accurate so he knows if there is a term it must be this one. There are different variations of it, even, to narrow down the exact experience. It is a revelation and a relief when he feels everything in him clang like a bell.
The youngest detective rarely uses the internet. He has never had the time nor inclination when he holds the world’s knowledge in his head. Community is something he has never felt a primitive longing for. It is enough for him to keep company with his friends. But his chosen family encourages him to seek others who share his experiences. If nothing else it will help him understand his own heart. While he is unlike anyone they have met in this he is not alone. The community is no doubt small and fledgling in its cohesiveness and visibility but present in the online landscape if he searches hard enough. The world is wide, as he is seen in his research of gender.
He can also physically try the local gay district, Shoutarou says. Philip raises his eyebrows at the revelation that his partner is familiar with this place but allows Shoutarou his privacy. Despite his lack of sexual partners it is unspoken knowledge that the man is not merely heterosexual and at his age he has experience with at least some forms of queerness. How far those extend is not known but he intimates there are people to be spoken to. Philip does not go anywhere yet but if he so chooses he can be part of something bigger. He does not wish to engage in discussions or emergence from anonymity online but he does read what he can find and dig for documentaries that have been released in past years. It’s there, all for him, to discover.
It comes to a question of how he wants to proceed. Fuuto does not offer a great many options. Philip does not think he wishes to change his name or gender marker. Physical transition does him no good when he is not the same every day. He does not want to be trapped in another obligatory binary by something so permanent as surgery. If that is indeed even possible, considering the unique composition of his form. He does not disdain his body to such a degree as to alter it. Nor does he wish to present in an inarguable way. It is enough that he can dress as befits his inner compass and only be questioned by those who would not care to know him.
So Philip does not change himself beyond dabbling in clothes and make-up. Though there are times when he dons a long wig he keeps his hair at an indeterminate length. Long for a man but not so much so that it reaches beyond his shoulders. When he is feeling a little tense or down his partner will seat him, produce a brush, and deftly drag it through his hair while he lets Philip talk. Akin to something that a family member or attentive lover would do. Shoutarou touches him more since that dark year and especially when it is a feminine day wherein Philip is also more demonstrative. His partner is not one for big gestures or words of love but he shows it in these small appreciative ways.
Philip begins to feel better about his own identity and how he exists in it. Even on days when he is something other than masculine or feminine he can find comfort in knowing why. It is okay, he learns, to defy neat boxes and stark characters. It doesn’t take from him the regard of the people around him. And it doesn’t demean what he feels other days. He can be only himself. Perhaps he will not be entirely free of the binary in his lifetime but he can learn how to navigate it and teach that to whomever he values. The rest who cannot or will not understand can live in their pitiable ignorance. Those who are tolerant will affirm people like him. It is finally enough.
After he is sure of everything that is inside him Aki-chan insists on a party to celebrate. Though Philip says it in wholly unnecessary she is a force to rival Double Extreme when she is set on a goal. Shoutarou argues with her for his partner’s sake but can only find frustration instead of purchase. Her wheedling whittles Philip’s resistance down to a useless nub. He loves his friends and has very fond recollections of his leaving party years before. This party will be much less bittersweet. An arrival rather than a departure. Helpful, too, in that it will apprise everyone of what has eluded them all so long. So he consents after a few days.
There are not decorations for this particular kind of occasion. Nor really guidance for how to act. Philip has no idea what to expect when Aki-chan troops in with her husband trailing behind her and suspicious bags in their arms. She forbids his natural curiosity from ruining the surprise and hides her hoard in the safe like it is treasure. When Shoutarou finds the bags there among their most valuable items he is angry for only a moment before shutting the compartment and never speaking of it again. The mystery persists for a week as RSVPs trail in from the people they have invited. Philip finds that ultimately he is excited to share his news and his life with those most dear to him. He always did love a good presentation.
The day of the party Philip expects to be nervous. He isn’t. His family has assured him that their friends will support him as they always have and just do so more gainfully going forward. The fierceness in Terui Ryuu’s eyes when he joins into the reassurance makes Philip feel a profound fondness for them all. It’s a genderless day and that will be a little more difficult to explain but he can do it. Philip has always been good at infodumps and enthusiasm is swelling to share his truth with a willing group. For once his ramble will be welcome.
He chuckles in surprise when he emerges to find that Aki-chan has decorated in blue, pink, and white. An effort to represent his different aspects, he guesses. Streamers in those colors and rainbow bunting tumble from the ceiling and a big banner tacked across the wall proclaims ‘congratulations, Philip!’. It’s been signed by all their friends at some point, little messages of support and praise without directly mentioning what they’re celebrating. They’re celebrating him, he supposes, much like they would a birthday. Indeed this is a birth of sorts. He is newly born into the world and being properly introduced for the first time.
Arrivals trickle in with hearty greetings and curiosity barely suppressed. Their friends have been told only that they are celebrating a big announcement and nothing more. All the central figures are there— Watcherman and Santa-chan, Queen and Elizabeth, Lily-san, Jinno-san and Makura Shun, Aoyama Akira and his sister. Everyone that is dear to Philip. And they are wearing happy faces. He thinks they will be wrinkled in thought soon but cannot imagine them frowning or upset. They have earned his trust over the years because they are good people that care for him in their own individual ways. They were there Before and After.
It begins with the usual milling about and cheer. Philip is in no hurry and can seldom be successfully rushed. It’s been years of contemplation and adjustment already; an hour more won’t be a misery. He can feel the impatience in the room welling like a party balloon but no one prods him for a revelatory speech. Makura Shun regards the subject of the party from the corners of his eyes, ever suspicious, but speaks to Philip with his usual mix of bluster and affection before he is steered away by Jinno-san. Aki-chan flits about making sure everyone is taken care of and on their best behavior and Philip loves her for it.
The time eventually comes when he feels the expectation of the guests merge with his own preparedness. A glance is all that is needed between himself and Shoutarou for the man to rally the troops for an address. Eyes all turn to Philip and he feels the knot of keeping this inside him begin to loosen as he unpicks it. The words are easy now.
“Everyone, thank you for being here. I have something important to share with you because you are my friends. I want you to know me better like I’ve been coming to know myself.” He pauses here, gauging the receptiveness of his audience.
They look at him with open eyes and minds, if slightly differing expressions. He takes a deep breath and explains the best way he knows how.
He takes his time and resists describing in his more typical rush of eager words. This should be imparted in the way of solving a case, with deliberateness and poise. He slides into his detective persona in his head. And it works. He presents a little history, some examples, and then a carefully constructed determination of what it means to him to be x-jendā. They have questions— of course they do. Some uncomfortable, some logical, some (such as Lily-san’s question of how to call him) even welcome. There is confusion but none of it is malicious. There is time for them to get used to it and learn its nuances just as how to live with his characteristics. And then when the curiosity dies down Philip closes the conversation. If there are any lingering questions they are left for later.
The party resumes and Philip feels light with the casting off of his long-burdensome silence. Watcherman takes him aside momentarily and, in a showing of seriousness that surprises, apologizes for that day when he upset Philip with his attentions. Philip had been sure that it was forgotten by the man and never thought of again. But here Watcherman is grimacing in self-reproach. Despite how unsettling it had been at the time Philip doesn’t begrudge the mistake now. He doesn’t lie to say it was okay but he does offer forgiveness. He feels hope that henceforth they can have more positive interactions. It is a given that his friends will have these moments of wrongness and he doesn’t blame them. They can meet one another in a middle ground of both trying to accept.
After the food has been picked to scraps and the conversation flowed away from Philip everyone’s attention is called by their vivacious host. They cluster closer together obediently. From behind the desk Shoutarou passes Aki-chan a long, shallow box wrapped in polka-dot paper and she in turn hands it to Philip with an eager smile.
“From us.” She explains, without needing to gesture to define who ‘us’ is.
The paper crinkles beneath his fingers as Philip gazes down at the gift. It’s not heavy or unbalanced. Not a book, then, though its weight is such that there is something significant inside. Suspense descends as he carefully peels back the tape and separates the box’s casing.
A garment lies folded neatly beneath the lid. It is same brilliant green as Cyclone and bearing, appropriately, a cartoon-style whirlwind in white across the chest. The dress is stitched and bordered in the colors of his other Gaia Memories: yellow and white and red. He grasps the thick straps and lifts it out. The bottom of the box falls to the floor but he isn’t paying attention. Fabric unfolds into a pinafore dress that is about as long as his vests and flared in exactly the same way. It has pockets! Cute but perfectly practical and comfortable to work in. Not the most feminine of dresses but he doesn’t need frills and sequins. His chosen family knew that.
The dress could only have been custom-made for him. It does not look as it it would accommodate a body different from his own. Coming from such a miserly chief as Akiko it is worth more than it realistically cost--- to spend their hard-earned funds to make him feel good is worth a fortune.
“Clothes for when you want to be extra cute!” Aki-chan chirps, ignoring the moisture that gathers a film across Philip’s eyes.
He blinks the tears away and thanks her fervently. No tears because there is no grief. Only happiness creasing his cheeks.
There are no other gifts, as no one was told what the subject of the party was, but none are needed. It is gift enough to know he is accepted wholly by these lovable people. Everyone marvels over the dress and thankfully don’t ask indelicate questions. After some minutes of this Aki-chan bundles it back into the box and places that on the small table in the seating area. Philip almost wants to take it back in after an irrational spike of worry that it will disappear or get damaged. But he doesn’t do anything so silly. It’s there for him whenever he needs it. Today he does not. And that no longer frightens him to realize. He feels calm and settled and good.
Suddenly Queen and Elizabeth scoop his arms into theirs like they are going to march him to their den of adorable delights.
“Now we can have more fun with you!” Queen enthuses.
“Girls night!” Elizabeth adds happily.
“As I said, I am not a girl. But I am not a man either.” Philip corrects, firm.
The words feel good in his mouth like sweet red bean jam. To their credit neither girl looks crestfallen at the rebuff. They have made a mistake, as Philip knew they would, but right now it is not painful.
“Oh, that’s right. But we can still do fun things together!” Queen rejoins.
Aki-chan pops up suddenly with a mask of exaggerated outrage.
“Aren’t you forgetting someone? Even if I’m a married one I’m still a woman!” She says, threateningly.
“Yes but you’re… mature.” Elizabeth responds, as if this is very obvious.
“EHH?!”
A small unwitting laugh puffs out of Philip as the girls retreat beneath the force of Aki-chan’s jealousy. He takes the reprieve from being focused upon gladly. Everyone is becoming preoccupied now that the ceremony has passed. They find the rhythm of their usual fondly meant scuffles and he fades into the background as he always has. It is not something he minds, as he has never been comfortable with attention or prolonged socializing. He takes a little time with others and then must retreat to unmask and rest. This is something everyone also knows about him at this juncture. If nothing else he is happy to watch from a corner over the book balanced on his knees. He does so now, settling against the wall with his legs drawn up.
Philip looks about him as the chaotic sprawl of his people. Aki-chan giggling as she hugs Terui Ryuu’s side, his arm looped protectively around her. Queen and Elizabeth trying to reenter Aki-chan’s affections with praise and cheerful teasing. Lily-san chatting with Jinno-san and Shun Makura, who both pretend not to be smitten. Aoyama Akira and Aoyama Yui are deep in discussion that Philip cannot hear from here. Shoutarou is exasperatedly shouting as Santa-chan and Watcherman engage in their typical tug of war interrogation of him (seemingly about which of Philip’s facets he likes best). Each person retains their own concept of self and expression of gender. They may conform but all are unique. And most importantly they love him exactly as he is.
Now he can begin to truly love himself.