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Mizuki never really thought about her own gender much.
Most people don’t, right? Most people don’t ponder what it means to be a girl, or to be a boy. If you’re a girl, you’re a girl, and if you’re a guy, you’re a guy. And Mizuki was always a girl, so, she’s a girl.
Being a girl means you do girl things. You wear girl clothes. Dress your hair like a girl. Paint your face like a girl. Make friends with other girls. Walk like a girl, talk like a girl. To be a girl is to be a girl, and girls do girl things. And since Mizuki is a girl, she does girl things. She wears dresses, blouses, skirts. She grows her hair down to her elbows, leaves it to sway in the wind, or ties it up in a neat ponytail with a red bow when she feels like it. She makes friends with other girls. She walks neatly and daintily, paying attention to each and every step. She speaks in a high tone of voice and refers to herself as atashi.
When Mizuki decided to transfer to Ohsaka High, an all-boys boarding school, she didn’t really feel the need to put much thought into it. If being a girl is doing girl things, being a boy, then, is just doing boy things. Wearing boy clothes, cutting your hair short, walking and talking like a boy--Just do those things, and you’ll practically be a boy. Of course, she’s still really a girl, any close inspection of her figure would betray that, but that can be fixed easily by binding her chest and shoving a sock down her trousers. Now no one can tell she’s really a girl. Well, mostly.
Sekime pokes Ashiya’s cheek, laying on the ground. “Oi, did you hear me?”
“Huh?” Ashiya responds dazed. Sekime’s face hovers over his, sitting cross-legged on the green grass next to him.
“I said, is it hard pretending to be a boy? I know I’d hate pretending to be a girl, wearing girls' clothes all the time.”
“No, I heard you,” Ashiya responds. “I was just thinking. I mean, no, not really. It’s not really that hard pretending to be a guy.”
“Well, if it’s not hard, then why’d you space out for so long thinking about it?”
Ashiya takes a little while to respond again. Well, maybe she’s taking so long because she feels like she’s supposed to think about it. I mean, yeah, why wouldn’t it bother you to pretend to be something you’re not, for such a long period of time? The only thing that is hard about pretending to be a boy for Mizuki is pretending to like girls. But everything else is fine.
Sekime interrupts his train of thought. “Has dressing like a boy turned you into one?”
“What?” Ashiya startles. “No way, I’m still a girl. I can’t change that.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Sekime laughs. “You act so much like a guy sometimes, though, that I forget you’re really a girl.”
“Yeah, but I’m still a girl.”
“You never feel weird having to pretend to be a guy at all? You never wish you could still wear dresses, wear makeup, or any of that?”
Ashiya ponders for a bit, then replies curtly. “No.”
“Not at all?”
“I never liked wearing dresses that much in the first place, to be honest.” Sekime nods and hums slightly, inviting Ashiya to continue. “When they’re too short, you’re always worried about them riding up, and flashing everybody. When they’re too long, you always worry about tripping over yourself on the skirt hem. Pants and shorts are much nicer.”
“Yeah, but aren’t skirts and whatnot prettier?” Sekime responds. “Not that I like wearing them, but I figured the reason girls wore those was not because they’re more comfortable or anything, but because they’re prettier. Same thing with shoes, and makeup.”
At their mention, Mizuki suddenly recalls going dress shopping with her mom when she was in town a few months back.
“Mizuki, look what Mama brought you.” Mizuki’s mother proudly shows off a long, rather conservative-looking but nonetheless pretty black dress, decorated with small red flower patterns. The hemlines are decorated with red lining, matching the flowers.
Mizuki gazes upon the dress dully. “It’s so girly, mom. Can’t you pick something a little more boyish?”
“You’ve been nothing but boyish, lately. You’re a lady, you should dress like one! Show off your womanly charms” She forces the dress into Mizuki’s hands. “I’m not leaving until you at least try it. Go ahead, I just know you’ll love it.”
Mizuki begrudgingly takes it with her into the changing room. It is a pretty dress. Why wouldn’t I want to look pretty? She rustles the fabric over her head, pulling it further and further down until it reaches her ankles.
Mizuki gazes into the mirror. She sees herself, her cleanly cropped hair, her small and feminine face, dainty body, outlined with beauty and grace by the dress. She looks objectively stunning, yet she’s stricken with a feeling she can hardly describe. A cold weight forms at the bottom of her gut, weighing down her insides.
“Wow, that’s my daughter. My beautiful Mizuki,” interrupts her mother. “I told you you’d look great, didn’t I?”
Mizuki knows her mother is speaking to her, but she can’t bring herself to pull her eyes away from the mirror and respond. Her reflection in that black and red dress, in the perfectly painted blush and eyeshadow. She can’t bring herself to hear or see anything else around her. She’s not sure she’s even looking at herself.
“Ashiya.” Sekime snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Ashiya! You’re spacing again.”
“Sorry.” Ashiya sheepishly rubs at the back of his own head. “I’ve been in a weird mood lately.”
“You’re not getting heatstroke, are you?” Sekime asks, concerned. “It’s awful hot out. Maybe we should go inside.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Ashiya replies, muted. He’d take any way out of this topic as fast as he could.