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Shiho hated this feeling.
They didn't quite have the words to describe it, but if they had to couple it with a physical sensation, they might liken it to bugs crawling all over their body – specifically the parts of it which they always tried to hide. Not that that was too difficult; they had been thankfully granted a relatively flat chest but it still gave them such a violent reaction whenever they looked in a mirror or wore a dress or took a shower. They hated it. They couldn't even refer to themself as a girl without it creeping up on them.
Inside their closet, their school uniform hung. They hated wearing it so much. Shiho had considered moving to a different school, one that let so-called girls wear pants with their uniforms, but then they'd have to explain to their parents why they wanted to, and that wouldn't... that wouldn't necessarily go so well, would it? Especially if they weren't honest about it.
Their alarm, which they'd snoozed a couple minutes ago, began to ring again, distracting them for their thoughts for a second. They turned it off and sat up in bed. Almost immediately the feeling reminded them that it was a school day and that they would need to wear the dreaded uniform. Their hands began to shake like they always did this time of day. Shiho was used to it. To the feeling, to the nausea that rose in their stomach any time they removed their clothes.
It was routine. Like practice, and getting surprise-tackle-hugged by Saki, and it ate away at them like the sea against the shore: sometimes it was gentle and rolling and they barely noticed it, but other days it was ferocious and battered them until they could hardly stand. Those were the days they hid from others, the moments where they were completely alone.
Today was going to be a harsh day. High winds and rough surf. And Shiho had been standing on the beach for years. They had weathered many storms, but they were so tired. Another hurricane might sink them.
For a second, they closed their eyes and pretended that all was well. Then they reopened them, picked their school uniform out of their closet and set it on their bed. Shizuku wasn’t leaving for another forty minutes today; she didn’t have a morning meeting for anything. Shiho would walk with her if they ate breakfast quickly enough.
They left their uniform on their bed, trying to procrastinate putting it on. Their pajamas were more comfortable anyway- an oversized long sleeve shirt and shorts that had gradually gotten holes in the sleeves and pockets respectively.
Breakfast was eggs, rice, and leftover steamed vegetables from yesterday’s dinner. Shiho let their sister lead the conversation. They were too tired to form coherent sentences anyway. Shizuku chatted with them about their friends and bass, and they listened to her speak about archery club, her upcoming fan meeting, and house hunting.
It let them forget about their feeling for a few minutes. The waves were gentle against the shore, almost unnoticeable. They stepped closer to the rising tide, but it was nefarious and pretended that its height had already come and gone. “I forgot to have a shower yesterday,” they said. “I think I’ll take mine this morning.” And that was a mistake, because the feeling then returned in force. High tide was fast approaching.
Still, they took a towel out of the closet and set it on the shelf in the bathroom. They turned on the showerhead and took a deep breath. The water was hot against their hands. Somehow their hands decided to turn the temperature up even higher. Now it felt as if it was burning their skin on contact. They stepped into the fire and rushed through their shower. High tide was getting too close. They forced themself to spend just a little longer than they needed under the oppressive heat.
They tried not to look down, for when they did, the feeling would spike, and they would get the urge to empty themself of their breakfast. Ten minutes after they’d first stepped into the shower, they turned off the water and hurried to dry themself off and get their clothes on. They hated this. They wanted to be sick. Going to school would only turn this storm into a category five hurricane that would destroy the fortifications they’d hastily prepared on the beach.
Shiho got their uniform on before they found themself staring at the remnants of their breakfast in the sink. Their body tried to expel more, but their previous meal was dinner and it did not come up. Instead they stood there, leaning over the sink, and dry heaved until their nervous system finally caught up to their meal schedule. The waves tried to wrap them in cruel, cruel arms, but instead Shizuku opened the door and did her best to stop the storm.
She wiped off their face and cleaned out the sink all while they fought the tide and the wind. Their hands shook; they had to look away from the sink and their body so they could try to form words. All they knew was the storm and the fear and the extreme discomfort of their uniform on their skin.
“Shii-chan, you should stay home,” she said, coming over to pat them on the back. “I’ll see about making some-“
They held up a hand. “No. It’s... I’m not sick.”
She seemed very confused at that. Shiho supposed it made little sense. “You should still stay home.” This time they were faced with Shizuku’s determined expression. It wasn’t like they had any energy left to attend class. They’d probably just ask Saki for her notes.
“Okay.” Their voice sounded fragile in their mouth. It tasted like bile. The wind had stolen all their strength from them, and the ocean had seized the opportunity to pilfer their hope and resolve. To put it delicately, Shiho felt like shit.
Shizuku guided them back to bed and let them change into pajamas. She took their temperature (it was normal, of course it was) and told them to rest throughout the day. “I feel bad I can’t stay with you,” she said before she left. Shiho knew it was wrong to keep others from their responsibilities. They knew it was selfish to wish for Shizuku to stay, but they allowed themself to want that anyway.
“See you later,” they whispered. Shizuku hugged them and then hurried to catch whatever train she needed to take. Shiho didn’t care to remember the name.
The storm was quiet now. But it had sapped everything they had, and now they could hardly stand without their heart racing to remind them of how awful they felt. Without their sister around, they pulled a blanket around themself to feel safe. They were sweating though they’d done no exercise.
What the hell was wrong with them?
Their phone chimed. A text from... Saki? They unlocked it and checked the message. Shiho-chan, Shizuku-senpai told me you’re not feeling well. Can I come over after school pretty please?
Oh. Classic Saki, really. She just wanted to check in on them. If you really want to.
They just wished that whatever the feeling was bringing out in them would subside by the time she showed up. Shiho would hate it if Saki saw them in this state.
Honami and Ichika also started gently wishing them well and asking how they were. Shiho hugged one of their throw pillows to their chest and responded to all the messages in the group chat until school started, at which point their shaking had stopped and their heart wasn’t beating so hard anymore. They still felt awful, but not sick. If they ate a chocolate bar right now, they would not throw up.
Not that they wanted to test such a thing; they didn’t want to get out of bed. But they could.
The storm was so quiet when they were around Ichika and Saki and Honami. It could not bother them as much. They wondered why that was. It was as if they were the windbreaker and shield and forecast against the storm raging in their mind. They made everything comfortable; they guarded Shiho from their worst days. It would be really nice to have them all here right now.
Alas, that was not possible, so Shiho managed to get themself out of their room and onto the couch, where they turned onto the TV and tried to see if there was anything good to watch. Anime, sports, the news... none of it was particularly interesting. They settled on some channel focused on music, and allowed themself to just be lazy for an hour. They watched the entirety of a programme that featured someone from Shizuku’s old idol group and then turned the TV off.
For lunch, they made themself ramen from leftovers in the fridge with fresh noodles and broth. It was excellent, but it did little to improve their mental state. At least they weren’t throwing up anymore. They’d hate to lose their lunch.
And then, because they felt so exhausted from fighting the storm all morning, they went back to bed and took a nap.
“Shiho-chan?”
They were greeted with Saki’s concerned face as they blinked the sun out of their eyes. “ ‘afternoon.”
“How are you feeling?” Honami asked from behind Saki. “We heard you weren’t feeling well...”
“ ‘m not sick,” they mumbled.
Saki raised an eyebrow. Then she brought a hand up to their forehead. “You don’t feel that warm.”
“I just panicked,” they said. “I couldn’t look at myself without feeling like I..”
They were promptly jumped on by a very concerned Saki who really, really wanted to give them a hug. They let her stay there, arms wrapped around their shoulders. The storm subsided. If she stayed there forever, would the storm keep its distance, too? Taunting them with its presence yet unable to harm them the way it recently had. The idea sounded rather nice. “Shiho-chan, what happened?”
The way she said their name, with the honorific on the end, made them squirm in disgust. It felt wrong. It made the bugs come back and they pulled Saki closer. The storm picked back up again. “I...”
Honami whispered something into Saki’s ear that Shiho did not catch. Then: “Shiho-kun, do you want us to stay over?”
That made the sun come out of the clouds. It felt so right Shiho wanted to cry. They fought back the sudden urge to kiss her (where had that come from?). “Yes.” They’d never been more sure of themself in their life. “Please.”
Saki pulled back from the hug just enough to smile at them. “Guess we’re not a ‘girl band’ anymore, huh?”
Ichika, who’d always had a weird sense of humor, burst out laughing at that statement before promptly shutting herself up and apologizing. Shiho didn’t mind. “Yeah.”
She just smiled at them like nothing had changed. “We have such a handsome bassist-“
Shiho stuck their tongue out and ruffled Saki’s hair to get her to stop talking. “I’m not that-“
“Yes, you are,” she said. “Honami and Ichika agree with me, right?”
Both of them nodded. Shiho just flopped back onto their pillow. “Three against one is not fair.”
Ichika made a face like You’re one to talk, didn’t you get me to go zip lining because Saki and Honami were also on board? Shiho elected to ignore this. The zip lining thing had absolutely nothing to do with unfairly balanced sides of an argument. “Well,” she said, “it might not be three against one.” And then Shizuku got home, so Ichika decided to go and talk to her, and Shiho had no way of interpreting what that meant. Was Ichika... also dealing with an internal storm? Or did she know what was up with herself and just chose not to tell anyone?
Saki pulled Honami onto the bed with them, which resulted in them basically getting tackled a second time, except by someone who was caught very off guard by this and who promptly began to flail around to get herself into a much more comfortable position. This resulted in a lot of laughter and a very confused Ichika.
“I leave you three alone for five minutes,” they chided, but they lay down next to Honami anyway. “Shiho, should you consider buying a bigger bed?”
“It wasn’t meant for four people,” they protested. (A nagging voice whispered that their friends would not stay for long if they discovered the extent of their incident this morning. Why it had happened, and why they wanted to transfer schools.) “This worked better when we were all seven.”
Ichika just messed with Shiho’s hair in response.
“Icchan,” Saki asked as they all stood up to get dinner, “what did you mean when you said it wouldn’t be three against one?”
Ichika froze for a second. “Honami, can you close the door?”
Honami did, and then they all waited in a very uncomfortable silence for Ichika to speak. It took a while, and Shiho felt the need to go and take their hand for comfort. Saki joined in with a hug, and Honami wrapped an arm around them.
It was almost funny how in sync they were with each other, Shiho thought. Though no one had said a word, they all knew.
Ichika probably didn’t need to specify what they meant, now. It was fairly obvious. Still, a good five minutes after the silence begun, it was broken. “I don’t want to be a girl,” they said, so quietly Shiho wondered if they had said anything at all. The storm was so far away from them now. Not because it wanted to be. “I- I don’t know it I ever did.”
“Okay, Ichi-kun,” Saki said. “I love you.”
“You’re too nice, Saki.”
“Excuse me, I am exactly the right amount of nice,” she protested, and that only served to make everyone laugh.
Honami seemed to have a question. Shiho responded by staring at her until she spat it out. This unfortunately had proven to be an excellent strategy, especially when they got Saki on their side. “Ichika-kun, when you say that, do you mean you want to be a boy, or...”
Ichika shrugged. Shiho could relate. They were fairly sure they knew why they did not want to be considered a girl, but what that meant was harder. The storm really had appeared out of nowhere, after their music career began to take off and they’d gotten their friends back. “Not sure.”
“Shii-chan,” Shizuku called from the hall, “supper is getting cold...”
“Oh, no,” Honami said.
After dinner, they were all back in Shiho’s room. The storm had returned during the meal because Shiho’s parents had wanted to know why they had skipped school, but thankfully they did not push the issue once they learned it was anxiety related. (Why hadn’t they asked more questions after that? Adults were so unpredictable.)
Saki was laying on the bed, her hair hanging off the side. Ichika had stolen Shiho’s desk chair and was now slowly spinning themself in a circle. Honami sat on the beanbag like a normal person and Shiho was lounging on the floor. This was the best attempt they had made at sitting in a circle throughout the past six weeks.
“I think I don’t want to be a boy either,” Ichika said.
Saki gave them a thumbs-up. “I wanna hug you, Ichi-kun, but this is really nice.”
“That can’t be comfortable,” Shiho muttered.
“Unlike you, I have excellent flexibility,” Saki teased. She proceeded to stretch her arms out far enough to poke Honami.
“Flexibility isn’t the issue here!”
Honami cleared her throat. “Shiho-kun, your turn.” She took Saki’s hand and then flicked it back towards her.
“Probably a guy,” they said. Saki responded with another thumbs-up. The storm quieted itself once again, and the beach was no longer a lonely place. Swimmers were beginning to arrive. The wind became a gentle whisper, a soft word shared between four.
Shiho was loved. He was not alone. And the feeling, the storm, would never win.