Disclaimer: All images and artwork included in this story are used solely for reference purposes. They serve to illustrate the narrative and characters but do not define or limit any interpretation of the story's creative content.

I’ve always heard that the mornings in Kyoto have a certain serenity, and now, standing here at the station for the first time, I feel it. The air is crisp, the quiet hum of early commuters fills the space, and the sunlight filters gently through the mist. It’s different from my hometown. Here, everything feels larger, more alive—yet somehow quieter, like the city itself is waking up.
I step off the train, a duffle bag slung over my shoulder, excitement and nerves buzzing inside me. This is the beginning of something new—university, living on my own, and the chance to see Yuki after all these years. Yet, there's this strange heaviness in my chest. The kind that lingers when you're walking into the unknown.

Originally, I was supposed to start in a few days, but I convinced myself to come early. Truthfully, I wanted to surprise Yuki before he leaves for work. It’s been… what, six years since I last saw him? I think back to when I was twelve, and he was twenty-two, packing his bags for Kyoto. I didn’t understand why he had to leave or why he barely visited after that first year. But he was determined; I could see it in his eyes. So could my parents. He wanted to make it on his own.

Yuki isn’t just my cousin; he’s like a big brother. My parents adopted him after his mom and dad passed away in an accident when I was just a baby. Growing up, I always looked up to him. He was patient with me, always kind, and had this quiet strength, like he could handle anything. It’s why I never questioned his decision to leave—I trusted that he knew what he was doing.

But six years without a visit… it’s strange, right? We barely talk on the phone now, and when we do, it feels like he’s holding something back.
As I walk through Kyoto’s streets, I can’t help but wonder about Yuki’s life now. All I know is what my mom has told me. After he left home, he stayed with his grandmother for a while. Things seemed to be going okay, but then something happened. I don’t know what, but he eventually left her place and started living on his own. Now, he’s a high school teacher—a good one, from what I hear. That part I can picture easily. Teaching suits him. He’s always had this calm, thoughtful way about him.

Still, questions linger. Why did he stop visiting? Why did he leave his grandmother’s house? And why did he sound so hesitant when I asked to stay with him? He said I could come, but there was something in his voice. Maybe he’s just not used to having someone around anymore.
But I couldn’t wait. That’s why I arrived early—to see him before he leaves for work. I want to see the Yuki I remember, the one who was always there for me. Maybe things will go back to the way they were.

The streets of Kyoto blend the old with the new. Rows of vending machines glow outside convenience stores, their lights flickering in the daylight. Salarymen in crisp suits march past, heads down, eyes on their phones, while elderly women sweep the fronts of small shops with wooden signs hanging slightly askew. Every so often, I catch a glimpse of a temple roof peeking between modern office buildings—a reminder that tradition still holds its place here.

The sound of traffic isn’t loud, but it hums around me, mingling with the occasional chime of a bicycle bell and the distant toll of a temple bell somewhere deeper in the city. Kyoto feels different from Tokyo—less frantic, more measured. The streets are wide, lined with trees swaying in the morning breeze. Some houses still have old wooden sliding doors and curved roofs, as if they’re rooted in another time. Others are newer, with clean lines and glass windows.

I check the map on my phone, adjusting my bag as I decide to walk the rest of the way to Yuki’s place. Taxis are too expensive, and besides, walking gives me time to think. The streets here are a maze, with narrow alleys branching off unexpectedly, lined with quaint shops selling hand-crafted goods and traditional sweets. I wonder if Yuki ever walks through these streets, if he’s still the same person I remember.
Finally, after what feels like an hour but is probably just thirty minutes, I reach his address. The building is modest—a two-story Japanese-style apartment, simple but neat. Wooden accents frame the windows, and there’s a small garden out front with a stone path leading to the entrance. An old bicycle leans against the wall, and the second-floor windows are open slightly, curtains swaying in the light breeze.

I stood outside the apartment, nervously adjusting the straps of my backpack. My eyes landed on the nameplate on the door, and my stomach did a little flip. Miyuki? It wasn’t Yuki. I double-checked the address on my phone—it matched perfectly. But seeing that unfamiliar name made me hesitate. Maybe Yuki was living with someone? A roommate? A partner? My finger hovered over the doorbell before I pressed it, hoping for some clarity.

Light footsteps came from inside, and then a woman’s voice called out, “Coming, please wait a minute!” My heart skipped a beat. That voice didn’t sound like Yuki’s. For a second, I thought about bolting. But before I could make up my mind, the door swung open.

I was face-to-face with a tall, beautiful woman. She wore a crisp white blouse tucked into a long skirt, her hair elegantly pulled back in a bun. She had a soft, graceful look to her—a look I didn’t expect in a stranger at Yuki’s place. Without thinking, I blurted out, “Do you know my brother, Yuki?”

The woman’s eyes widened with recognition. She gasped softly, “Haruki…!”

My heart skipped. The familiarity in her voice—no, it couldn’t be…

"W-What?" I stammered, feeling a strange mix of disbelief and confusion.

The woman gave a small, awkward laugh before biting her lip. “Haruki…it’s me. I’m Yuki.”

My mind blanked. This woman, with her calm, graceful demeanor and soft voice, was… Yuki? The cousin I’d come all this way to reunite with?

“W-WHAT?!” I shouted, my voice cracking. "Y-You're Yuki?!"

She—he—nodded, looking both nervous and amused. “You’re a bit early, Haruki… two days early, actually.”

I forced a laugh, still trying to shake off the shock. “Yeah, well…I wanted to surprise you. Looks like I’m the one who got surprised!”

Yuki glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. “Come inside. You must be tired.” With a half-smile, he added, “I don’t bite. Promise.”

Despite the surreal shock, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. This was still Yuki. Different, yes, but maybe… still the same? I picked up my bag and followed him inside, feeling like I was stepping into an entirely new chapter—one I hadn’t expected.

The absurdity of it made me laugh, a tiny crack of normalcy breaking through. I picked up my suitcase, feeling the familiar warmth of his humor—though everything else felt like an alien world. I stepped inside, and Yuki pointed to the entryway. “Put your shoes here. Grab your bag and follow me.”

As I took off my shoes, I caught myself glancing at the long bun of hair resting on Yuki’s head. Was that real? How did he…grow it like that? The questions were endless, but none made sense in the moment.

I followed him down the hallway, still grappling with reality. Why is Yuki dressed like this? Why is he wearing a skirt? The voice… it’s still his voice, but everything else…

Yuki led me to a small guest room, where I dropped my bags. He handed me a towel. “Here. Get freshened up; the bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll make us some breakfast.”

“O-Okay…thanks,” I replied, barely processing the words. As he left the room, I sat on the bed, clutching the towel in my hands, my mind racing. Yuki was…a strikingly beautiful woman. What on earth happened?

Later, I found myself at the dining table, staring at a meal of miso soup, grilled fish, and rice. It smelled amazing, but I could barely taste it. Yuki, now across from me, seemed calm, sorting through some documents as if everything was perfectly normal.

Finally, he broke the silence. “I know you have a lot of questions,” he said, still focused on his papers. “About why I look like this…whether I’m a woman now…what’s going on.” He hesitated, his face going red with a mix of embarrassment and something else. “Can we talk later tonight? I’m still…adjusting to having someone see me like this. And…I’m running late for work.”

I nodded slowly, feeling completely lost. “I…I understand.” I didn’t. Not at all. But I could see he was struggling, and I didn’t want to push him.
Yuki glanced at the clock and grabbed his bag. “I’ve got to go. You must be exhausted from the trip. Rest up, okay?”

I managed a weak smile. “Yeah…take care, Onii-san. Have a good day at work.”

He stopped, gave me a tight-lipped smile, and slung his bag over his shoulder. “You too. I promise I’ll explain everything when I get back.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone in the quiet apartment. I sat there for a while, staring blankly at the table, my food untouched. Does Yuki go to school…like this? As a woman? What happened while we were apart?

Groaning, I rubbed my temples, pinching myself to make sure this wasn’t some weird dream. But nothing changed. I was still in Yuki’s apartment, still grappling with the impossible reality before me.

I sighed, trying to steady my thoughts. “I’ll wait,” I whispered to myself. “Let him…her…explain everything later.”
But deep down, I knew nothing could prepare me for what was coming.

The Meeting

After Yuki left for work, time seemed to slow down to a crawl. I found myself pacing around the apartment, my mind still spinning from the morning’s events. I couldn't wrap my head around how much my brother had changed in just six years. His body—his whole presence—looked so much like a woman that I don’t think anyone would have recognized him like this. Heck, I didn’t recognize him.

I kept replaying the scene over and over. That bun. That unbelievably high and intricate bun on his head. How was it even possible? If I hadn’t seen him in person, I would have sworn it was some elaborate wig. But... it wasn’t. That hair was real. I could see it. I could feel it.
Then it hit me, just how long is his hair? I couldn’t stop imagining how it would look down.

I’ve always been fascinated with long hair, even when I was a kid. I remember begging my mom to let me grow mine out when I was about ten, convinced I’d look cool. After a year of struggling to get past the awkward “mop” phase, I gave up. My hair just never looked how I wanted it to. Not like Yuki’s. That silky, glossy, unreal hair. Even back when we were growing up, Yuki never had hair like this. I’ve only ever seen long hair like that on models, on social media, or in movies—never in real life.

The longest hair I’d seen on anyone was maybe waist-length, but Yuki’s... if I had to guess, it must reach past that—maybe even to the floor. It was impossible to imagine, but now I was almost obsessed with the thought. It felt strange to be this fixated on my own brother, but the way he looked now, it was as if he were a completely different person.

I tried to distract myself as the afternoon dragged on, restless and filled with a million questions. I decided to explore the apartment. It wasn’t too big—an average-sized apartment by Kyoto standards—but it was well-kept, cozy even. Two bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a living room area that opened out to a narrow balcony. From what I could tell, Yuki was renting the place. For someone living alone, it was... perfect. Neat, tidy, everything in its right place.

My room was simple but nice. There was a low table, a chair, and a futon tucked neatly in the corner. A small closet with sliding doors. Nothing fancy, but it felt welcoming. I didn’t dare go into Yuki’s room. Something about that just felt like crossing a line I wasn’t ready to cross yet.
I moved out to the balcony for a change of pace, taking in the city view. Kyoto was... different from the little town I grew up in. Here, you could see the streets lined with small stores and cafés, a few bicycles chained to poles, and the faint hum of traffic in the distance. A few trees and flower pots dotted the nearby balconies, including ours.

On the balcony, a small chair was set up next to a potted plant, probably for relaxing in the evenings. There were clothes hanging from a drying rack nearby, fluttering slightly in the breeze. And—oh man—I immediately noticed the women’s underwear. Panties and bras. They were Yuki’s. There was no mistaking that now. I sighed, running my hand through my hair. This was going to take some time to get used to.
“Huuuuh... when will he get back?” I muttered to myself, frustration bubbling up as I slumped into the chair. I had so many questions, but the wait was making me anxious. Eventually, I dozed off, lulled by the soft breeze and my restless thoughts.

Hours later, almost evening now, I jolted awake when I heard the doorbell ring. Heart pounding in anticipation, I scrambled to open it, thinking Yuki was finally back.

But instead, I found an old woman standing at the entrance. She smiled kindly at me, her hair tied back in a low bun, her eyes gentle but curious.

“Oh! Young man, who might you be?” she asked, her voice soft but firm. “Is Miyuki-san home?”

Miyuki? For a second, I didn’t get it, but then it clicked—Miyuki must be the name Yuki was going by here.

“Uh... no, she’s not back yet,” I said awkwardly. “I’m her younger brother, Haruki.”

The woman’s face lit up with recognition. “Ah, I see! Nice to meet you, Haruki-kun. I’m Miyuki-san’s neighbor from across the hall.” She handed me a small parcel wrapped neatly in paper. “I noticed she wasn’t home earlier, so I took this for her. Would you mind giving it to her when she gets back?”

I took the parcel with a bow. “Of course, thank you. I’ll make sure she gets it.”

The woman chuckled warmly. “Miyuki-san is lucky to have such a kind younger brother.” She turned to leave but stopped briefly. “Tell her I said hello, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to come by, alright?”

“Will do. Thank you!” I called after her as she shuffled away down the hall. I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly.

Miyuki, huh? I guess that’s the name he goes by now.

The apartment felt quieter after that brief interaction. I put the parcel on the kitchen counter and washed my face, trying to shake off the haze of sleep and the lingering unease from earlier. I changed into more comfortable clothes and sat back down, waiting for Yuki to return. The questions in my mind were relentless:

Does he live like this all the time? Why did he change so much? Why is he going by Miyuki now? Does mom know?
I was so desperate for answers, but more than anything, I just wanted to see my brother again—to talk to him properly and understand what was going on. But all I could do now was wait.

I was about to call my mom to ask about it but stopped myself. Maybe he has his reasons, and I didn’t want to get him into trouble because of this. Besides, there was a part of me that wanted to hear the explanation from him first. Some things... they needed to be said in person, not over the phone.

Maybe this was one of those things where the truth is more complicated than it seems.

As I sat at the table, my laptop glowing softly in the dim light, I felt the stillness around me. I was halfway through finishing up my university application, filling in the last few details, but my mind kept slipping back to… Yuki. How was he so different? How was he still the same? I had all these questions swirling in my head, yet everything was so out of reach, just like him.

Then, I heard the door creak open, snapping me back to reality. My stomach did a nervous flip as I set the laptop aside and made my way to the entrance.

And there he was, adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, looking a little frazzled. Yuki balanced himself, one hand on the wall, while he tried to slip off his shoes with that slight, delicate shuffle. I noticed the light dusting of blush on his cheeks as he looked up.
“Welcome back, nii-san,” I greeted, using the old honorific, testing it. Maybe it would feel normal.
He blinked up at me, surprised, his eyes wide for just a second before softening into that familiar smile of his. “Oh! Hey. I didn’t think you’d still be awake.”

I couldn’t help but notice the way he shifted his weight, like balancing himself in those work clothes—fitted and elegant—was a little tricky. Before I could stop myself, I took a step forward, holding my hand out.

“Here, let me take that. Must be heavy,” I offered.

For a second, he hesitated, clutching the strap with both hands. But then he softened and handed the bag to me, his fingers brushing mine. “Thank you… I didn’t realize how tired I was,” he murmured. And wow, his bag was heavier than I expected. How did he carry this every day?
We both moved into the living room together, and as he slipped off his shoes, I remembered something. “Oh, by the way, your neighbor came by earlier—an older lady. She left this package for you.”

“Oh, Mrs. Nakano, right?” Yuki replied, his voice holding a kind of quiet warmth. “She’s always checking in on me,” he added with a soft laugh, lifting the package from my hand gently, like it was delicate.

“Yeah,” I nodded, “but she called you Miyuki. Is that what you go by now?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual, though it didn’t feel like a casual question.

Yuki’s lips curved into a small, embarrassed smile. “Yeah, it’s… it’s just what I go by now. Makes things easier around here.” There was something a little sad in the way he said it, but I let it slide.

“Well, go on. Freshen up. I’ll make some tea,” I said, pushing myself to act casual.

He raised an eyebrow at that, looking genuinely amused. “You? Making tea?”

I grinned, feeling a spark of pride. “Hey, I’ve grown up, you know. I can cook, too. Believe it or not.”

Yuki chuckled, a delicate sound that reminded me of our old times together. “I still remember the kid who nearly burned the kitchen down with instant ramen.”

“Oh, please, that was years ago!” I laughed, rolling my eyes.

“All right, all right,” he said, waving a delicate hand at me. “I’ll take your word for it,” he teased.

I watched him head down the hall to freshen up, his silhouette graceful, refined. I caught myself staring at the way he walked, noticing the way he adjusted his collar and smoothed out his skirt as he moved, small, soft movements that seemed like second nature to him now. And that bun—so perfectly styled, almost surreal.

As he disappeared into his room, I headed to the kitchen, setting the tea up and trying to process what I’d just seen. How had he become… so different? And yet, there was something there, something achingly familiar.

Soon enough, he came back, looking more relaxed. Still in his work clothes, but a bit softer somehow, like he’d taken a breath of fresh air. I poured the tea, sliding his cup over.

“Go on, try it,” I urged, a little more eagerly than I meant to. “Tell me if I did it right.”

He took a sip, his eyes closing as he tasted it, and then he smiled. “It’s perfect. Thank you, Haruki.” The way he said my name like that, softly, sent a rush of pride through me.

“See?” I smirked, leaning back, “I told you I’ve improved.”

He laughed quietly, covering his mouth with one hand, a small feminine gesture that surprised me. But I liked it—no, I loved it. It felt like the best of Yuki was still right there, wrapped in something new.

After a few moments of silence, I couldn’t hold back anymore. “So… Miyuki, huh?” I asked, watching his reaction carefully. “Is that what everyone calls you now?”

He set his cup down, nodding slowly. “Yes… it’s just what I go by now. It’s… it’s simpler that way, I guess.”
“Right… simpler.” I could only nod, but the questions were bubbling up. I couldn’t stop myself. “Okay, but… I mean, Yuki, are you… are you a woman now? Should I… call you ‘onee-san’?”

Yuki blinked, his cheeks turning that same soft pink again, and he let out a nervous little laugh, raising his hand as if to shield his face. “Wow… straight to the big question, huh?” His voice was light, but I could hear something fragile beneath it.

I tried to smile. “I mean, you just look so… I don’t know, it’s hard to believe you’re still…”

Yuki looked down, his gaze trailing to the table. “I know, Haruki. I know it’s… a lot to take in.” His fingers touched the edge of his blouse gently. “But no, I’m still… still a man. Even if I look like this,” he said, his hand drifting to gesture, almost apologetically, towards his chest.
I blinked, a little embarrassed, but I was too curious to stop. “Really? But… what about… I mean, those?” I pointed, feeling my face heat up as I gestured toward his chest.

Yuki winced, bringing his hand up to cover himself. “Yeah… I know. They’re real, but it’s just… something that happened. It’s complicated.”
Sensing his unease, I tried to back off. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

He looked up at me, smiling gratefully. “Thanks. I appreciate that, Haruki.”

I shifted a little, still glancing at him, my curiosity unabated. “Just one more question. Do you… you know, like men now?”

Yuki blinked, startled, and then his lips curved into a small, amused smile. “No. I still prefer women, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good to know,” I muttered, grinning.

Yuki just shook his head, laughing softly, and for the first time in ages, it felt natural, like we were back to ourselves. Then he raised an eyebrow at me. “But you still haven’t told me how you’re going to address me?”

I smirked, pretending to think it over. “Well, I was thinking ‘Yuki onee-san’ has a nice ring to it,” I teased, my grin growing wider.

Yuki groaned, covering his face in embarrassment, but I could see him smiling underneath. “Oh, come on, Haruki. Just call me Yuki.”
“Fine, fine… Yuki it is,” I said, laughing.

Once the laughter died down, I found myself staring at that perfectly done bun of his. I couldn’t help it—it was mesmerizing. “One last thing, though… is that really your hair?”

Yuki’s face flushed, and he fidgeted with his fingers, looking down. “It… it is,” he mumbled, clearly a little self-conscious.

“Can I see it?” I leaned forward, feeling like a kid. “You know how I’ve always been obsessed with long hair! C’mon, please?”

Yuki bit his lip, looking up with a shy smile, and he hesitated. “All right… but only because it’s you.”

The Talk!

Yuki stood up, a bit hesitant, and reached for the pins holding his bun together. His fingers moved gracefully, unpinning one section at a time, as if he’d done this countless times. He removed the last pin and held the bun in place for a moment, almost as if gathering the courage to let it fall.

When he finally let go, the bun unraveled slowly, cascading down in soft, controlled waves. His hair was longer than I remembered—far longer. It wasn't just to his waist or knees; it flowed down almost to his ankles. I was stunned.

I blinked, staring at the dark, glossy strands. It was mesmerizing, the way his hair shimmered in the light, thick and healthy all the way to the ends. The air between us felt still, and I could barely breathe. I had never seen hair like this in my life, and I couldn’t believe it was my brother's.

Yuki glanced back, clearly shy. “So... what do you think?” His voice wavered just a little.

I swallowed hard, still processing. “I... I... I’m lost for words,” I stammered. My heart raced, unable to hide the awe in my voice. It was more beautiful than I imagined, more than I could even put into words.

Yuki gave a soft, nervous laugh, noticing my stunned reaction. “I didn’t expect you to be this surprised.”

After a moment of silence, I finally gathered my thoughts enough to speak. “Nii-san...”

“Yes?” He turned slightly, curious about what I’d say next.

“Umm... can I... can I touch your hair?” I asked cautiously, unsure if my request would make him uncomfortable. The question hung in the air for a few seconds, and I started to regret it, feeling the weight of my words.

Yuki's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and for a moment, the room was filled with awkward tension. I quickly tried to backtrack. “I’m sorry! It’s such an odd request, I didn’t mean to—”

“Wait,” Yuki cut me off, his voice softer now. “You can... touch them.”

I froze. “What?”

“You can touch them,” Yuki repeated, his cheeks flushing as he said it. “You're my younger brother. I trust you.” His words held a strange sense of sincerity that made my chest tighten. I couldn’t believe he was allowing this.

“Really?” I asked again, just to be sure.

Yuki gave a small nod. “Yeah. But let me sit down first. I’ve had a long day at work.”

I waited as he moved beside me, adjusting his hair so that it wouldn’t tangle. He sat down with his back to me, and even seated, his hair spilled across the floor like a dark waterfall.

I couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. “You look like a Japanese Rapunzel from behind, you know?”

Yuki chuckled. “Rapunzel, huh? At least you're not calling me a princess. Do you need me to let down my hair again?” He smirked, though his voice was still shy.

I grinned at his joke. “Milday, may I?” I teased, imitating a knight asking for permission.

Yuki rolled his eyes. “Just hurry up before I change my mind,” he muttered playfully. “I’m starting to feel too self-conscious.”

My heart pounded in my chest as I moved behind him and reached out, almost afraid to start. “You can begin,” Yuki said, his voice quieter now. “Don’t make me wait any longer...”

I carefully took a few strands in my hands, marveling at how soft and silky they were. Despite being tied up all day, his hair remained perfectly smooth, each strand sliding effortlessly through my fingers.

“You weren’t kidding... this is incredible,” I whispered. “Your hair is so thick and healthy... I think even girls would be jealous of how perfect it is.”

Yuki laughed nervously. “Yeah, they grew fast. Even I’m surprised sometimes when I see them.”

I let the strands fall and took another handful, letting them flow through my fingers like water. “I can’t believe it’s grown this much in just six years.”
“Neither can I,” Yuki admitted. “I take good care of it, but still... it’s hard to keep up with sometimes.”

I continued running my fingers through the long locks, feeling how dense and full they were. “Do you like them?” Yuki asked suddenly, his voice uncertain.

I paused, considering his question. “Like them? Nii-san... I love them. They’re extraordinary. I’ve never seen hair like this in my life.” My voice was full of admiration, and I meant every word.

Yuki smiled shyly. “I’m glad. You know, I don’t usually let anyone touch my hair. It’s... personal to me. But you're family. I trust you.”

Hearing that made my heart swell. I let go of his hair and sat beside him, feeling a strange sense of closeness. Yuki looked away, clearly embarrassed, but I could see in his eyes how much my words meant to him.

I took a deep breath and decided to ask the question that had been on my mind all evening. “So... can you finally tell me how all of this happened?” I hesitated before adding, “I don’t hate you like this, you know. You’re still my brother, but... it’s a lot to take in. You never told me anything about... all this. My brother never seemed interested in women’s clothes or long hair before. What changed?”

Yuki looked down at his lap, holding his hands together. His fingers twitched slightly, and he shifted a few strands of hair behind his ears, clearly nervous. “I’m... I’m really happy that you don’t hate me,” he began quietly. “And thank you for giving me the space to figure things out.”

I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

Yuki sighed deeply. “It’s a long story, but... it all started about six years ago.”

He glanced at me, his eyes full of hesitation and uncertainty. The atmosphere between us felt heavier now, more personal, as if he was about to reveal something deeply painful.

I watched Yuki carefully, trying to pull memories from that time he’d last visited home. It had been so long, I wasn’t sure I’d get it right. But Yuki’s voice broke the silence as he nudged my memory along.

The Awe!

“Do you remember the last time I visited home?” Yuki asked, his tone light but with a hint of something deeper.

I paused, trying to think back. “Wasn’t it… I think I was exhausted from the sports festival at school?”

Yuki nodded, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, you were asleep. Dead to the world. I came over to wake you up, and you looked so terrified.”

“Oh! That’s right!” I cut him off, laughing as it all came rushing back. “You woke me up with your hair all down like that—seriously, you looked like Sadako from that horror movie! You totally freaked me out!”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I did look a little ghostly back then. Even our mom was shocked.”

“Oh, she told me about that! She was shocked because you looked so different with long hair,” I said, picturing that moment in my mind, how surreal it had been to see Yuki like that. “It was the first time you’d ever grown it out, right?”

Yuki nodded. “Yeah. But back then, it was only to my shoulders. Shorter than now.”

I raised an eyebrow, studying him. He looked so different now, with his hair much longer, and yet somehow more himself than ever. “I remember you saying it was because you wanted to try out a new style in the city. You wanted to blend in or something, right?”

Yuki paused, his gaze distant. “To tell you the truth… that was just an excuse.”

“What? Seriously?” I asked, surprised. This was news to me. Growing out his hair had always seemed like a style choice, some kind of reinvention for his new life in the city.

“Yeah.” Yuki’s voice softened, almost as if he were revealing a part of himself he rarely shared. “At the time, I didn’t have a proper job lined up. I was running low on money, so I figured I’d just stop going for haircuts to save what little I had. Growing it out was easier than spending on trims.”

“Oh…” I hadn’t known that at all. I’d just assumed it was his way of adapting to city life, blending in, trying something new. I thought back to that time—how he looked with his hair shorter, the way mom had fussed over it. “Even back then, though, your hair was nice. I remember mom brushing it out and smiling. She always looked so proud.”

Yuki’s expression softened, his eyes distant as if seeing those memories play out in his mind. “Yeah… she eventually grew to like it,” he said, his voice almost too quiet to hear. There was a sad smile on his lips, and for a moment, he seemed far away.

Seeing that look, something tightened in my chest. “You… you miss her, don’t you?”

“A lot.” His voice was barely a whisper, but the weight of those words was heavy, settling between us.

Just then, a memory surfaced, and I blurted out, “Wait—onii-san, didn’t you say you were going to cut your hair for an interview recently?”

He looked at me, a bit surprised, as if impressed by my memory. “Good memory, Haruki. I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

I laughed, a bit embarrassed. “Thanks! I just… I guess I remember because I was sad when you mentioned cutting it. I didn’t want you to lose it, you know?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, amused by my confession. “I can’t believe you thought about it that much.”

I scratched my head, feeling a bit sheepish. But then, I gestured towards him, taking in his long hair and the way he’d changed since then. “So… what happened?” I asked, looking him up and down, still a bit confused. “Why all this?” I gestured vaguely, trying to encapsulate his long hair, his slender figure, the way he seemed more refined, almost ethereal.

Yuki looked down, a hint of sadness in his expression, but also a certain acceptance. He was quiet for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. I waited, hoping he’d tell me the story, the real one this time, about everything that led to this version of Yuki sitting beside me now.

Yuki 6 years before!

6 Years Before. (Kyoto Station.)

The station was packed, a relentless tide of people surging forward as if the whole of Kyoto were in a hurry. I pushed through, clutching my bag, trying to keep my hastily-tied ponytail from falling apart. Everything had been planned out—the haircut, the polished suit, a calm entrance. But now, thanks to a sudden reschedule, I was late and unkempt. Not the impression I wanted to give.

As I finally broke free from the station’s crush, the sky hung gray and heavy, a light drizzle starting to fall. I caught a glimpse of myself in a shop window as I passed and winced. My hair was a bit too long, a bit unruly—definitely not helping the composed, reliable image I wanted. What if they thought I wasn’t serious? First impressions mattered, and today, I didn’t look like the person I needed to be.

I tried to shake off the thought, pushing forward as the drizzle turned to steady rain. The narrow sidewalk was packed, umbrellas popping open around me, slowing my pace even further. Each obstacle—crowds, weather, the nagging worry about my appearance—seemed intent on tripping me up. I willed myself forward, focusing on getting to the university before time ran out.

As I finally reached the campus, I felt a weight lift. The main building towered over an empty sports field, empty and peaceful in the summer hush. I stopped to catch my breath, easing the tension in my shoulders. At least it wasn’t bustling; I couldn’t imagine braving a crowd on campus on top of everything else.

"This place is... big," I murmured, glancing around, trying to shake off my nerves. The dignified quiet gave the place an air of importance, and I felt a spark of excitement imagining myself here—a place to finally settle, a space that could feel like home after so many uncertain years.
Inside the building, I made my way to the reception desk, where a woman greeted me with a warm smile. "Yes, we were expecting you," she said, glancing at her notes. "If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, we’ll arrange everything for your interview. There’s a seating area over there."

I nodded and bowed slightly. “Thank you very much.”

Settling into a seat, I tried to calm myself, but I couldn’t resist glancing at my reflection in the nearby window. It wasn’t the first time I’d worried over my appearance. My features were softer than I wanted, and my ponytail only made it worse. After a few moments, I leaned toward the receptionist.

"Excuse me—would you mind pointing me to the washroom?"

She nodded, directing me down the hall. I gave her another quick bow and followed her directions, the echo of my steps underscoring the quiet corridor.

Inside the washroom, I gave myself a long look in the mirror. My suit was neat, my tie straight, my watch polished. A picture of reliability. But still, my eyes landed on my hair.

"Suit…ok. Watch…ok. Hair…" I muttered, fidgeting with the ponytail. I had always struggled to balance my image, caught between wanting to look professional and not wanting to be mistaken for someone I wasn't. I took a deep breath, shaking off the thought for now, and straightened up, deciding to make the best of it. With a final nod at my reflection, I returned to the waiting area.

A few minutes later, the receptionist waved me over. She led me to a wooden door with a modest plaque identifying it as the interview room. Before I stepped in, she gave me a warm, encouraging smile.

“Good luck, Yuki-san.”

I took a deep breath, trying to brace myself for what I hoped would be good news, and stepped back into the room. Ms. Sato greeted me with a calm smile, though I could sense a trace of hesitation in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Yuki gave a polite nod. “Thank you.” He steadied his shoulders, slid open the door, and stepped inside.

The room was softly lit by daylight filtering through a window, casting a gentle glow around Ms. Sato, who sat upright at a low table. Her gaze shifted to meet his as he entered, her eyes widening slightly as they took in his face, a mix of surprise and something Yuki couldn’t quite read. He felt his throat tighten but forced a smile, bowing deeply as he greeted her.

“Good morning, Ms. Sato. Thank you for this opportunity.”

She nodded, still watching him closely, her surprise lingering. “Good morning, Yuki-san. Please, have a seat.”

As I settled onto the cushion, I felt Ms. Sato’s eyes appraising him, her gaze lingering on my face, his tied-back hair, and my neatly pressed suit. A brief, uneasy silence filled the room as she opened a folder, scanning its contents.

“Yuki-san, I see you’ve recently graduated. Could you tell me why you chose teaching, and why this university in particular?”

I took a breath, gathering my thoughts and spoke earnestly about my passion for teaching, the joy I found in helping others learn, and why I believed the university’s nurturing reputation aligned perfectly with my goals. The interview seemed to be going smoothly, and I felt I was making a strong impression. But toward the end, I sensed a shift in Ms. Sato’s tone.

I looked across the desk as Ms. Sato scanned over her notes, her gaze steady and focused. “Yuki-san,” she began carefully, and I felt my heart tighten. “Your dedication is clear, and I’m impressed by your answers. However…” She hesitated, her expression softening slightly, as if choosing her words with extra care. “This position… it was intended for a female candidate. And… when I reviewed your application and photos, I had assumed you were a woman.”

My stomach dropped. Another misunderstanding. I’d faced this reaction before, but each time, it seemed to sting more. I’d been searching for months, with my savings growing thinner by the day. I couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity.

“Ms. Sato,” I said softly, swallowing back the tightness in my throat, “I understand… I may not be what you expected. But teaching is everything to me. I’ve been working so hard for this… I promise, if you give me a chance, I’ll prove myself. I just… I need this job.”

The words came tumbling out before I could hold them back, but Ms. Sato listened, her expression shifting to one of quiet contemplation.

She leaned back, folding her hands thoughtfully. “Yuki-san,” she said, her voice gentle, “your perseverance is admirable, and it’s clear that you truly care about teaching.” She paused, her gaze softening with a hint of compassion. “I’ll give this some serious consideration. Could you wait outside for just a few minutes?”

I bowed deeply. “Thank you so much, Ms. Sato,” I said, barely containing my relief.

In the quiet hallway, my mind raced, replaying every word of our conversation. I pressed my hands into my knees, whispering a silent prayer. Just this once… please, let me catch a break.

Moments later, the sound of footsteps broke through my thoughts, and the receptionist appeared. “Yuki-san,” she said with a polite smile, “Ms. Sato is ready for you.”

I stood quickly, murmuring my thanks, and took a steadying breath as I walked back into the room, hoping that this would be the chance I so desperately needed.

I stood quickly, murmuring my thanks, and walked back into the room, trying to steady my breathing. Ms. Sato greeted me with a calm smile, though I could still sense a hint of hesitation in her eyes. She gestured for me to sit, and I did, forcing myself to keep my posture straight despite the pounding in my chest.

“Yuki-san,” she began carefully, “there may be a way for you to work here.” She paused, and my heart leaped with a flicker of hope, only to stutter when she added, “But…”

“But?” I leaned forward, hanging on her words.

She looked at me, as if weighing something important. “But I don’t know if you will be comfortable with it.”

“Please, tell me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. A knot of anxiety twisted in my stomach as I waited.

Ms. Sato straightened, her tone turning serious. “We’ve been instructed to increase the number of female staff members. Right now, we’re severely lacking, and the university administration has been clear about bringing in more women for balance.”

I nodded slowly, trying to understand. I had a vague sense of where this might be going, but still, I waited for her to finish.

She cleared her throat, watching me with a steady gaze. “If you could… present yourself as a woman, we could consider you for this position.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Wait… you’re asking me to work here as a woman?”

She gave a small, understanding smile, fully aware of how surreal it sounded. “Yes, that’s the gist of it.”

I stammered, my mind racing. “You… you want me to work here as a female teacher?”

She nodded gently. “That’s why I wanted to ask if you’d be comfortable. It’s a lot to ask, and I understand if it’s too much.”

I looked down at my hands, my throat tight. I’d been without work for almost a year. My savings were nearly gone, and the thought of returning home, defeated, made my chest ache. I’d fought so hard to get here, and now… this was the only opportunity.

“But… is there really no other way?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Ms. Sato shook her head, her expression apologetic but resolute. “No. The administration is clear about our need for female staff. If we don’t fill these positions, it reflects poorly on the university.”

I swallowed, feeling trapped. “But… how would I even manage? What if someone found out?”

Her voice softened. “We’ll arrange everything to ensure confidentiality. I’ll personally help you with whatever you need—finances, guidance… all of it. You won’t be alone in this.”

“But still…” The words felt small, uncertain. What she was offering seemed impossible—support, a job, stability—but at a heavy cost. Could I really take on a new identity, even on the surface, and live with it day after day?

Ms. Sato checked her watch, giving me an understanding nod. “I have a lunch break coming up. Why don’t you take some time to think it through? I’ll be back in twenty minutes, and we can discuss your decision then.”

I nodded numbly. “Thank you, Ms. Sato.”

As she left, I sat alone in the quiet hallway, trying to collect my thoughts. The past year had been nothing but struggle—rejections, missed opportunities, interviews that went nowhere. Here, finally, was a real chance. But to take it, I’d have to present myself as someone… someone I wasn’t.

I sighed, gazing out the hallway window to where students gathered on the university grounds. They laughed together, looking carefree, so certain of their place in the world. I envied them. They didn’t have to question who they were or wonder what they’d sacrifice to survive.

Could I really do this? Could I set aside a part of myself to move forward? The thought of returning home empty-handed made me feel hollow. I couldn’t face that.

As the minutes ticked by, I made up my mind.

When Ms. Sato returned, her footsteps light, she looked at me expectantly, a trace of concern in her eyes.

“So, Yuki-san… have you made your decision?”

I looked up, feeling the weight of my choice settle within me, but I was resolved. “Yes,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “I’ll do it.”

A warm smile spread across her face, filled with relief and encouragement. “Good. Come back inside, and we can discuss the details further.”

Back in the interview room, she gestured for me to sit, her demeanor professional yet supportive. “Yuki-san,” she began, folding her hands, “the paperwork will be simple, but the transition itself will require some adjustment. You’ll need to present yourself in a way that aligns with the university’s expectations.”

I nodded, nervous but determined. “I understand. I’m ready to take on the challenges.”

She studied me for a moment, then asked, “Could you… let your hair down? I’d like to see how it looks.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” I reached up, feeling self-conscious, and let my hair fall past my shoulders. My heart raced as she observed me, her expression contemplative.

She nodded approvingly. “It’s good that you have such delicate features, Yuki-san. This could work… for now, at least.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Honestly, I almost cut my hair for the interview. I thought it might look more professional.”

Ms. Sato smiled. “Good thing you didn’t. Today might have turned out very differently. In fact, I’d suggest letting it grow longer—it will help you blend in more naturally.”

I nodded, making a mental note to resist any future temptation to cut it. “Understood, Ms. Sato.”

“Do you have anyone in Kyoto who could help with clothing, makeup, and other adjustments?”

The thought of my family flashed through my mind, but I knew they wouldn’t understand. I shook my head. “No… I don’t have anyone here who could help.”

Ms. Sato nodded, thoughtful. “For now, I’ll help you with the initial stages. We need to act quickly—school reopens in ten days, and there’s much for you to prepare.”

I felt a wave of gratitude and relief wash over me. “Thank you, Sato-sensei,” I said, letting the honorific slip naturally, feeling a deep respect for her willingness to help.

Ms. Sato acknowledged the title with a warm smile. “You’re welcome, Yuki-san. But this is only the beginning. You’ll need to put in a lot of effort, and it won’t be easy.”

I straightened, determination firming in my voice. “I understand. When do we start?”

She glanced at her watch. “Are you free this evening? We could begin preparations immediately.”

I nodded, feeling a small surge of confidence. “Yes, I’m free.”

“Good,” she replied, her expression resolute. “Then let’s get started.”

Back To Present

“So that’s how all this happened?” I asked, my mind still reeling from Yuki’s unexpected story.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “All of it started from that interview,” Yuki replied, his gaze turning distant, as if reliving each moment.

“So… what happened after the interview?” I pressed, leaning forward with curiosity.

“Ms. Sato took me shopping that very evening. She said if I was going to do this, I needed to be prepared with everything… even things I hadn’t thought of,” Yuki explained, looking almost sheepish.

Back to the Past

As we walked through the bustling streets of Kyoto that evening, Ms. Sato led me confidently through stores I’d never even thought to enter. The air was thick with a mix of perfumes and chatter, and I felt out of place with every step. The weight of what I’d agreed to was starting to sink in.

She was scanning the racks, picking out blouses, skirts, makeup, and... things I hadn’t anticipated. She held up a set of women’s undergarments.

“Sato-sensei, do I… need to get these too?” I asked, unable to keep the discomfort out of my voice. I pointed at the bra and panties, feeling my face heat up.

“Yes, you do,” she replied calmly, as though this were the most natural thing in the world. “It’ll help you get used to the transformation. The right undergarments will make it easier to move and feel as you should.”

I stared at the items in her hand, my face burning. The idea of wearing… these, as a guy, felt absurd. But I’d already come this far, and Ms. Sato had been so supportive. “Alright,” I said with a sigh, bracing myself.

We continued shopping, picking up things I’d never owned before—breast pads, makeup, even two pairs of heels. Each item she handed me felt like a step further into a world I didn’t fully understand yet. She was thorough, explaining what each item would help me achieve and how it would contribute to my “new appearance.” I just nodded, my mind swimming with all the changes that lay ahead.

After what felt like hours, we finally sat down in a small restaurant to have dinner. I barely noticed what I ordered, too focused on the bags of unfamiliar clothes and accessories beside me.

“You can pay me back once you start getting paid,” she said, her voice warm but firm.

“Thank you, really,” I replied, taking a bite of soba noodles. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She smiled and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, Yuki. I believe in you.”

As I looked at the bags beside me, a sudden realization hit me like a cold wave. “Um… Sato-sensei, I have a problem,” I said cautiously.

She looked up from her food, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

I hesitated, then leaned in, lowering my voice. “Where am I supposed to… you know… change into these clothes? If I do this at home, my grandma will find out. And if she sees these clothes…” I trailed off, imagining the horror on her face if she discovered me like this.
Ms. Sato blinked, clearly surprised. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was that serious at home.”

I nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. “She’s very traditional… if she saw me like this, she’d probably throw me out.”

“Wow, that much?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“Yeah,” I replied with a rueful smile.

After a moment, she looked thoughtful, then said, “Well, don’t worry about that. You can change at my place.”

“Really?” I asked, feeling a rush of relief.

She nodded. “I live nearby with my daughter. It’s quiet, and you won’t be bothering anyone. We’ll make it work.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Thank you so much, Sato-sensei,” I said, bowing slightly.

She smiled, amused. “Where did you think I was planning to teach you all of this? At the university?”

“Ah, right,” I said, scratching my head, realizing how naive I must have sounded.

Present

“For the next ten days, she trained me,” Yuki said, his expression softening as he thought back. “She taught me everything—how to walk in heels, how to speak, behave, apply makeup, style my hair… you name it. I would go to her place early each morning and stay till evening. She worked with me all day, preparing me for the real deal.”

“She sounds amazing,” I said, impressed. “You must be glad to have had someone like her on your side.”

“I am,” he said, his voice filled with quiet gratitude. “If it weren’t for her… I honestly don’t know what would have happened.”

Yuki fell silent, his eyes unfocused, deep in thought.

“Please, keep going. I’m really invested now,” I whispered, not wanting to break the moment.

He smiled and continued, “So, after ten days of training, I was finally ready. Or as ready as I could be.”

Back to the Past

The morning of my first day as a teacher arrived, and I woke up early. My nerves were already on edge. I had to stop by Sato-sensei’s house to change, so I made sure everything was packed and checked myself in the mirror. I was wearing a simple white shirt and blue trousers to avoid raising any suspicions with Grandma. But even though I looked “normal,” I couldn’t shake the awareness that underneath, I was wearing women’s underwear.

Sato-sensei had insisted I get used to them, so I’d been wearing them for the past few days. I had to admit, they were soft and comfortable, but I was always worried that someone would notice—especially Grandma. Luckily, her mood was good that morning; she was thrilled that I’d finally secured a job after so long.

As I was about to leave, Grandma came to the door. “Hey, you’ve got everything, right?”

“Yes, Grandma,” I replied, holding up the lunchbox she’d packed for me.

She looked at me with a hint of suspicion, her gaze landing on my ponytail. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with that hair?”

“It’s fine,” I lied. “They actually prefer it longer since I’ll be teaching a girls’ class.”

She frowned slightly but seemed to accept it. “If you say so… just don’t go too far with it.”

“Of course,” I said quickly, eager to leave before she had more questions. “Bye, Grandma!”

She waved me off, and I left, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety.

After a short walk, I reached Sato-sensei’s house and rang the doorbell. She opened the door with a warm smile, ushering me inside.

“Alright, everything’s set up in the guest room. Go on, get changed,” she said, handing me a carefully laid-out outfit.

I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath. This was it. I changed out of my usual clothes and reached for the bra, slipping it on and fitting the breast pads she’d given me. I adjusted it a few times, feeling awkward but remembering her instructions. Then came the blouse, a soft white that flowed smoothly as I buttoned it up, followed by a neatly tailored skirt.

Next was my hair. I took off my ponytail band and carefully brushed it out into a long, neat bob as she’d shown me. Lastly, the makeup—simple lipstick, a touch of blush, and some eyeliner. I checked my reflection, surprised by how… different I looked.

I stepped out of the room, feeling the shift in my movements, the slight click of the heels against the floor.

Sato-sensei looked me over, a professional scrutiny in her gaze. “Not bad,” she said, brushing a stray hair back and adjusting my blouse. “But remember to keep your posture softer, more relaxed. You’re not used to this, but with time, it’ll come naturally.”

I nodded, absorbing her advice. She had an encouraging smile as she took a step back. “Ready to make your debut?”

With a final, steadying breath, I nodded. “Ready.”

We left for the university, the weight of my new identity settling on me with each step.

Present

“So, how was the first day as a teacher?” I asked, leaning forward, eager to hear the details.

Yuki’s expression immediately turned wry, and he gave a small, almost nervous laugh. “Oh… it was not good at all. I was nervous and self-conscious the whole time. Sure, Sato-sensei trained me extensively for those ten days and even took me outside dressed as ‘Miyuki’ to help me adjust. But this was different. I had to stand in front of a classroom full of students, pretending to be a woman, with no one there to support me.”

“This sounds like so much work; you must have been overwhelmed!” I replied, imagining the weight of it all.

“Overwhelmed?” he said, shaking his head. “That’s an understatement.”

I glanced at his face, catching a brief, pained look, like he was reliving an uncomfortable memory. He looked, for a moment, like a girl haunted by an awkward past, and I felt a pang of sympathy.

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to talk about it,” I said gently. “I don’t want to force you.”

Yuki gave a small smile and shook his head. “No, it’s alright. If anything, sharing it with you… it actually feels kind of nice.” He looked down, collecting his thoughts, then continued. “That first day, though—it really was something.”

Back to the Past

As Sato-sensei and I entered the school grounds, I could feel my heart racing. Students were already filling the courtyard, mingling and chatting, their voices creating a constant hum that seemed to echo around us. The moment we stepped through the gates, several heads turned to look our way, some lingering longer on me than I’d hoped. I felt painfully aware of every glance, every curious gaze.

"Good morning, Sensei!" students called out, bowing respectfully as we walked past. Sato-sensei greeted each one back with a calm confidence, effortlessly recalling every name.

One girl, looking about fifteen, stopped in her tracks to greet us. Her eyes flicked curiously to me, and she tilted her head. “Sensei, is she a new teacher?”

My heart skipped a beat at the word “she.” It felt strange, hearing myself addressed like that, yet there was something surreal about it, like stepping into a role in a play. I caught myself, reminded of Sato-sensei’s training, and summoned a polite smile.

“Yes, this is Miyuki-sensei,” Sato-sensei introduced smoothly. “She’ll be teaching here starting today.”

“Oh, good morning, Sensei!” the girl said with a respectful bow.

“Good morning,” I replied in my best feminine voice, the one we’d practiced until it felt natural.

The girl smiled, seemingly satisfied, and joined her friends. Each interaction left me a little more conscious of the delicate balance I was maintaining. Every move, every word had to fit this new persona, and I was terrified of slipping up.

As we moved through the hallway, the curious glances only grew. Sato-sensei’s calm demeanor was my anchor, and I kept my focus on her, mirroring her posture, her gentle nods. I wondered how long it would take before “Miyuki” started feeling real to me.

When we finally reached the staff room, the atmosphere shifted. The hum of casual conversation among teachers paused for a moment as they turned their attention to us. The room had an orderly feel, with teachers quietly sorting through paperwork, some in quiet discussion. Being introduced here felt like stepping into a new realm.

Sato-sensei, as the department head, commanded immediate respect. She nodded at each teacher who greeted her, effortlessly guiding me through the room. “Good morning, everyone,” she said. “This is Miyuki-san, our newest addition.”

I offered a respectful bow to each teacher as they greeted me in turn. “Good morning,” I said, doing my best to meet their gazes without flinching. The tension in my shoulders was mounting as I fought to maintain my composed appearance.

Sato-sensei gestured to a small cubicle in the corner. “This will be your desk, Miyuki-san.” She handed me a Teacher ID card, my name neatly printed beneath the title. The sight of “Miyuki Takahashi” made it feel real in a new way—a silent acknowledgment of the role I’d committed to.
“Thank you, Sato-sensei,” I murmured, accepting the ID and quickly pinning it to my blouse. Each small action, each minor detail felt magnified, like a test of my new identity.

After introducing me to each teacher—each greeting a delicate blend of formal politeness and personal warmth—I was feeling overwhelmed. As “Miyuki,” I had to manage not only the usual nerves of a first day but also the added weight of maintaining my feminine mannerisms and voice. Even with Sato-sensei by my side, it was a lot to take in.

Present.

“Wait… so none of the teachers knew you were a guy?” I asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Yuki rolled his eyes, an amused smile pulling at his lips. “Are you an idiot? Of course they didn’t know. If they had, I would’ve been kicked out before the day was over.”

“Sorry, sorry!” I said, chuckling sheepishly. “So, only Sato-sensei knew? No one else?”

“Just her and her assistant, who had scheduled my interview. And that’s it.”

I tried to imagine it—pretending to be someone else every day, with no one to confide in, and under constant scrutiny. “That must have been rough, being alone like that.”

“It was,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. “But it was safer that way. Teachers gossip, and some of them can be… let’s just say, not very accepting. If they’d known, I would have been outed and fired before I even settled in.”

I nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy. He had taken on all of this just to survive in a world that wouldn’t accept him as he was. The thought stirred something within me, a mixture of admiration and sadness.

Back to the Past
After what felt like hours of greetings and introductions, I finally had a moment to breathe. I let out a sigh, slumping slightly against my cubicle

“Finally, done with this…” I muttered under my breath.

Sato-sensei chuckled beside me. “This is just the beginning, Yuki-san. Now comes the real challenge—in the classroom.”

Her words sent a jolt of anxiety through me. “Did you have to say it like that?” I grumbled. “You make it sound like I’m going to battle.”

She flashed me a sly smile. “Oh, for you, it will be.”

I wanted to laugh, but the tension in my chest made it difficult. I’d taught before back in my hometown, so I thought I’d be confident. But this… this was entirely different. I wasn’t just Yuki, the tutor; I was Miyuki, the teacher. And I had to be perfect.

The walk to the classroom felt like the longest journey. I could hear the students chattering inside, unaware of the new “teacher” about to enter. I took a deep breath, straightened my blouse, and adjusted my hair, letting it fall gently over my shoulders in the style Sato-sensei had taught me. The familiar, reassuring weight of it helped ground me. I brushed one strand behind my ear, feeling the finality of the moment settle over me.

“So, are you ready?” Sato-sensei asked, giving me a final, encouraging nod.

I swallowed, giving myself one last check. Then, with a small nod, I braced myself. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She slid the door open, and a hush fell over the room. The students, who had been mid-conversation, stopped and turned toward us, their eyes wide with curiosity. I felt a rush of heat rise to my cheeks as I followed Sato-sensei to the front of the class.

Everyone stood, bowing in unison. “Good morning, Sensei!”

“Good morning, everyone,” Sato-sensei greeted them, her voice steady. “This is Miyuki-sensei. She’ll be your new teacher starting today.”
I nodded, giving a small bow. “Good morning,” I said in my practiced feminine voice, hoping it sounded as natural as I wanted it to.

As I looked over the sea of curious faces, each watching me with open curiosity, the weight of my new role settled heavily on my shoulders. The chatter picked up again as I felt the silent judgment of each gaze.

Sato-sensei gave me an encouraging nod, then stepped back, taking her place near the back of the room. I tightened my grip on the marker, took a deep breath, and turned to the board, writing my name in neat letters: “Miyuki.”

“Good morning, everyone,” I said, softening my voice to match the higher pitch Sato-sensei and I had practiced. “My name is Miyuki… Miyuki-sensei. I’ll be your new teacher.”

A moment of silence passed, then whispers rippled through the class like a breeze stirring the surface of a pond. I caught snippets here and there: "Isn’t she pretty?" "Think she’s strict?" I felt every eye locked on me, curiosity mixed with a bit of awe and some light giggles.
Just then, a girl raised her hand with a bright smile and asked, “Miyuki-sensei! Are you from Kyoto?” I managed a small smile and nodded, “Yes, I am.”

Another girl, leaning forward with a playful grin, piped up, “Sensei, how do you keep your hair so shiny?” She giggled, and a ripple of laughter followed across the room. I let out a quiet, nervous chuckle. “Ah…just basic care,” I replied. “And eating well.”

The questions poured in: “What’s your favorite color?” “Do you like shopping?” “What music do you like?” Their voices blended into a lively buzz, filling the room with an energy that was overwhelming yet warm. Just as I started to feel swept up in the questions, Sato-sensei stepped in.

“Alright, everyone, settle down!” Sato-sensei’s calm, firm voice sliced through the noise. “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know Miyuki-sensei. Now, everyone, please open your textbooks to page twenty-three.”

I cast her a grateful look as she gave me a supportive smile, then left me alone at the front of the class. I took a steadying breath, feeling my nerves reignite. But as Sato-sensei had said, I just had to focus on the lesson.

“As Sato-sensei said, please open to page twenty-three, and let’s look at today’s material.” I spoke slowly, trying to project confidence despite feeling so intensely aware of every eye watching me. Some of the girls gave encouraging smiles, while a few boys sized me up with skeptical glances. But I pushed through, gripping the podium lightly and focusing on the text.

After what felt like an eternity, the introductions began. “Let’s start with introductions. Could each of you share your name and something you’re interested in?” The first student stood, her bright eyes and confident smile a refreshing sight.

“My name is Aiko. I’m on the volleyball team, and I love animals!” She grinned widely as if she’d just made the most exciting revelation ever.
I smiled back, “Nice to meet you, Aiko-san.”

As the students continued with their introductions, I took in each name, trying to associate faces with their interests. Takeshi, with his casual wave and quiet admission of sketching and guitar practice; Emi, the shy girl with an interest in astronomy; and finally, Hana, the class representative, who ended with a respectful bow. Each new personality gave me glimpses into their lives.

Then, as the lesson continued, Sato-sensei quietly slipped out of the room, leaving me to manage the class alone. The faint feeling of nervousness returned, but I pushed on, realizing each lesson would be a new chance to settle in and learn just as much as the students were.

"The whole day went on like this," Yuki said, leaning back with a small sigh. "By the end of it, I was totally exhausted."
I tried to wrap my head around it, shaking my head in disbelief. "I can’t even imagine it, honestly. Just going into a classroom like that, day after day."

Yuki’s gaze softened, but there was a subtle seriousness behind his eyes. "I didn’t have a choice; my life was dependent on it."
I nodded, still piecing things together. He really did have to survive in a world completely different from what he’d known. “So... did you ever get used to it fast? Or think of giving up?”

"Oh, no," Yuki chuckled. "Believe me, I was tempted. It was like I’d stepped into an entirely new world—a woman’s world. It was overwhelming. Boys and men stared at me, and some even flirted sometimes.”

My eyes widened. “What? People were actually flirting with you?”

"Yep. It was shocking at first." Yuki shrugged, as if he'd already grown used to the absurdity of it all. “In just one month, I was so close to giving up. The toll of juggling two lives every day was something I wasn’t prepared for.”

“Juggling?” I asked, noticing the way he rubbed his temples.

He nodded, a heavy look passing over his face. “Every day, I had to go to Sato-sensei’s house to change into my female clothes, then head to the university and act as a female teacher all day. After that, I’d go back to Sato-sensei’s place, change into my male clothes, and head home. The mental toll…if it weren’t for our mom, I don’t think I would’ve managed.”

“Wait... Mom?” I interrupted, taken aback. “She knows about this?”

A little smirk played on his lips. “Oh, right, I almost forgot you didn’t know about that.”

“What?” I jumped up, probably a bit too loudly, because he put a finger to his lips, motioning for me to keep it down.

“Quiet down,” he chuckled. “Yes, Mom knew. We kept it a secret between us, though.”

“Hold on...so, she knew this entire time? And she didn’t even…?”

“It was more of a quiet understanding,” he replied thoughtfully. “She never actually saw me, though—we only talked on the phone.”

“Oh, so that’s why you two used to talk so much!” It was starting to make sense, all those late-night calls and whispered conversations.

“That’s what you’re taking away from this?” He gave me an amused look. “Anyway, she only knew the basics: that I was working as a female teacher and that I had long hair. She didn’t know the details or how hard things actually were.”

I let that sink in, and my mind started drifting. Maybe if he had come back just once… “You know, Mom would have loved to see you at least once. She missed you so much.”

Yuki’s expression softened. “I know.” He paused. “One day, after another exhausting day, I was heading back home and decided to call her…”

Back to the Past

"Good night, Sensei. See you tomorrow," I called, shifting my bag on my shoulder as I headed out.

She paused, looking me over with a concerned expression. "Yuki-san, are you alright? You didn’t even tie your hair today."

I touched a loose strand, feeling its softness brush against my cheek. "Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a bit of a headache, so I thought I’d leave it down. Besides, I was too tired to bother with it."

Sato-sensei’s gaze softened. "Well, if you need a break, just let me know. I can arrange for Sasaki-san to cover your shift tomorrow."

"I appreciate it, Sensei, but I’ll be okay." I glanced at the clock on the wall. "Oh, it’s getting late. I should go."

She smiled but held that watchful look in her eyes. "Alright, but please, take care of yourself. Goodnight, Yuki-san."

I gave a quick nod and headed out. But today, something felt heavier than usual. Covering two extra classes had left me completely drained; I hadn’t even had time to prepare for them, and the students, being new to me, were rowdy and inattentive. A few even smirked at my nervous attempts to quiet them, and the longer the class went on, the closer I felt to breaking character. I could feel Miyuki slipping, my usual self peeking through, and I had to remind myself to hold it together.

As I walked down the darkened street, I caught a glimpse of myself in a shop window—a tired figure with loose, dark hair falling over my shoulders, looking almost like a girl in men’s clothes. I let out a sigh and brushed the hair away.

What have I gotten myself into? I thought, feeling the weight of my own reflection. Working as a woman... I must be insane.

A feeling of loneliness washed over me. Despite all Sato-sensei had done, no one truly knew what I was going through, not even my family. They’d think it was strange, ridiculous even, if I tried to explain it. Then, I remembered Mom, and without overthinking it, I pulled out my phone and dialed her number.

The phone rang several times, and then her familiar voice, soft and warm, came through. “Yuki! You finally remembered your poor mother, huh?”

Hearing her voice felt like a dam bursting, and before I knew it, tears filled my eyes, spilling over in a way I hadn’t let them in weeks. I hadn’t called in so long, and suddenly, all the stress I’d been holding in felt like too much.

“Hello?... Hello, Yuki? Is there a connection issue?” She paused. “Hold on, let me move to the window. Can you hear me now?”

“Y-yeah, Mom. I hear you.” My voice cracked, and I tried to keep it steady, but it was too late.

Her tone immediately shifted, laced with worry. “Wait… Yuki, are you crying? Honey, what happened? Is something wrong?”

I took a shaky breath and, finally, let everything out. I told her about the interview, how Sato-sensei had guided me through the process, the stress of working as a female teacher, the fear of someone finding out, and how close I’d come to giving up several times.

When I finished, there was a long silence. Then, finally, she spoke, her voice filled with understanding.

“Oh, Yuki…” she murmured. “That’s… that’s a lot, sweetheart.”

I let out a weak laugh, my voice still thick with emotion. “Yeah… I guess it is.” I felt lighter somehow, finally letting someone in on it all.
She gave a small laugh, as if she were processing the whole picture. “You know, I’m honestly amazed. I never thought you’d be doing something like this. You used to hate it whenever anyone called you ‘delicate’ or mistook you for a girl.”

I laughed a little, wiping my face. “Yeah, I know. It’s ironic, isn’t it? Maybe... maybe this is me trying to prove something to myself.”

She paused, and when she spoke, her voice was gentle but firm. “Honey, as much as I’d support you in whatever you decide to do, I want you to know that I think you’re braver than you realize. And honestly… maybe you should stay. At least for a little longer.”

“Stay?” I echoed, surprised. “You mean… as Miyuki?”

“Yes, as Miyuki,” she replied. “From what you’ve told me, Sato-sensei sounds like a wonderful person and a true mentor. And for her to support you this way... she must see something in you that not everyone could handle.”

I paused, letting her words settle over me. “I… I think you’re right, Mom. She’s done so much to help me. It feels wrong to just give up now.”
“That’s how I see it too,” she said gently. “Look, I know it can’t be easy, but finding a job that offers a good opportunity and a supportive environment isn’t always simple. If you left, who’s to say you’d find something like this again? You know how long and late your father’s hours are. But here you have a chance—a unique one, I admit, but a chance nonetheless.”

I nodded, feeling the comfort of her words. “Yeah… I suppose I should be more grateful for the opportunity. I should appreciate what I have.”
“Exactly, Yuki. Life’s not always going to be easy for anyone. But we have to keep going, especially when it’s hard. You’re stronger than you think.”

A faint smile crept onto my face. “You’re right. Thanks, Mom. I think I’ll stick it out a bit longer. I’m already a little used to it, so… why not?”
“That’s the spirit!” she said, her voice warm with pride. “And, sweetheart, I’ll do my part from here, too. If anyone asks, I’ll keep this to myself and won’t say a word about your job. It’ll be our little secret.”

Relief washed over me. “Thank you, Mom. I was so worried… I thought you’d think it was too strange, or maybe be disappointed.”

She laughed softly, a soothing sound in the quiet night. “Oh, Yuki, don’t be ridiculous. I’m your mother. No matter what, I’ll always understand. I’ll keep you safe from the gossip on this end—you just keep taking care of yourself over there, alright?”

“I will. And I’ll call more often. I promise,” I said, feeling a weight lift off my chest.

“Well, every day might be a bit ambitious, but I’d love to hear from you whenever you can,” she replied with a gentle chuckle.

As I started walking, we slipped into an easier conversation, one that made me feel like I was home again. I told her about the little things, like a student who’d unexpectedly complimented me, thinking I’d misheard, and how Sato-sensei had gently nudged me into perfecting a softer voice, one that could “pass” as more ladylike. She laughed at the idea, and the warmth in her amusement made me realize there were even moments of humor in all this.

By the time I finally hung up, I felt an undeniable sense of calm. The exhaustion was still there, but the loneliness wasn’t quite as heavy as it had been.

Back to the Present

Hearing Yuki talk about those early days in his job got me feeling strangely emotional. I’d heard bits and pieces before, but nothing like this—nothing that showed just how much he’d gone through. He had changed a lot, and now, for the first time, I was starting to see why. Even though I still wasn’t used to seeing him like this, sitting beside me, sharing all of this, he was undeniably still my big brother.

“Wow, Mom really kept this a secret from all of us,” I said, genuinely impressed. “If you hadn’t told me just now, I’d never have known.”

Yuki laughed softly, his eyes lighting up with that familiar warmth. “Yeah, she did. She’s good at that, isn’t she?”

I nodded, and then said, “I called her this morning when I arrived. I almost called again this afternoon to ask if she knew about… all this. But I stopped myself, thinking maybe you’d kept it from her too.”

Yuki looked at me with a gentle smile. “I appreciate that you thought of me, Haruki. But I told her early on. She’d always been my one ally through it all. I didn’t want you to feel awkward about it or get dragged into anything.”

A sense of relief swept over me, knowing he’d at least had someone to talk to. “I just didn’t want you getting in trouble or anything,” I said, shrugging.

“That means a lot to me, you know,” Yuki said, smiling in a way that made me think he was grateful for all of it.

“So…what happened after that?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

“For the first few months, I was calling Mom almost every other day,” Yuki began, settling into the memory. “She’d cheer me on, even when I felt like I was in way over my head. Sato-sensei also stepped in. She suggested I start going with her to yoga on weekends—said it would help me stay centered, and it did. Those yoga sessions became a way to calm my mind, even though I was so tired all the time.”

Yuki glanced down at his hands. “It took a while, but eventually, I got into the rhythm of it all, and one day, I got my first paycheck. Holding that in my hands… it felt like everything I’d struggled through was worth it. I sent some money home, and I think Mom took you out for a nice dinner with it, didn’t she?”

I laughed, remembering. “Yeah! Mom was so proud of you. She was beaming the whole night. And yeah, I think I ate way more than I should have,” I chuckled, and Yuki’s face softened in a way that told me he was happy to hear that.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” he said. “It felt amazing to finally give something back after everything.”

He looked off into the distance, almost as if he were still seeing that first paycheck. “Little by little, I got more confident in my job. I’d gotten the hang of teaching and was even beginning to understand how to get along with the students. But, I wasn’t fully prepared for how tricky it would get outside of school…”

“What do you mean?” I asked, intrigued.

“One day, after a long day of teaching, I was leaving Sato-sensei’s house, back in my regular clothes, when I ran into one of my students outside a nearby café.” He paused, the memory vivid in his mind. “I froze. She saw me and was about to come over to say hello. I panicked—I was Yuki, and not Miyuki, so if she got a good look at me, it could’ve been game over. In a panic, I ducked behind a car until she passed.”
I laughed a little, imagining him hiding like that. “Sounds nerve-wracking!”

“It was. After that close call, I didn’t take any chances. Whenever I went somewhere I thought students or colleagues might be, I dressed as Miyuki—even outside of work. It was just safer that way,” he said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “But it wasn’t just that. Over time, even small things started to affect me. I remember how I’d been sitting differently, crossing my legs without thinking. The way I’d brush my hair back changed, too… little things, but it was like my body had taken on these automatic habits.”

“Must’ve been weird,” I said, imagining myself in his position.

“Oh, definitely,” he replied, laughing. “I remember one day, I was sitting with a few friends from college. Halfway through our conversation, I realized I’d been adjusting my hair and posture in this really… feminine way. One of them noticed and asked if I’d ‘picked up new habits.’” He laughed, but there was a hint of embarrassment there, too. “I tried to laugh it off, but in my head, I was panicking.”

“Sounds like they almost caught you,” I said, feeling both amused and sympathetic.

Yuki settled back and continued, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "So, as months went by, I did gradually get used to my role. But adjusting didn’t mean it got any easier—I had to change at Sato-sensei’s house each morning and then again in the evening after work, which meant a constant back-and-forth, and honestly, that alone could wear me down. Soon, even at home, I stuck to my regular male clothes just to be safe around Grandma. But, to save time, I was already wearing...well, everything else I needed under them."

"Everything?" I asked, still a bit startled by how completely he’d integrated these two roles.

"Yeah," he said, giving me a little smile. "So when I came home in the evening, it was a relief to be in comfortable clothes, but underneath, I still had to keep it all prepared. It was almost automatic." He looked down, toying with his tea. "The funny part was, even after changing back into my regular clothes, with my hair as long as it was, I’d still look pretty feminine no matter what. Some days, I'd catch my reflection and think, ‘Is this really me?’”

"Wow, you’ve really changed a lot, huh?"

He chuckled and nodded, then paused, his expression shifting a bit. "There was this one incident that definitely made me more careful. One of my students almost saw me outside of school, and that’s when I realized how easily my cover could be blown if I wasn’t careful." He took a breath, clearly still remembering the tension of that moment. "After that, I started to stay dressed as Miyuki whenever I went out anywhere public. It was exhausting, but I couldn’t risk them recognizing me as Yuki."

“That sounds intense!” I said, imagining the pressure of constantly maintaining a different identity.

“Oh, it was. And to make things even trickier, a couple of my friends from back home came to Kyoto for work and wanted to meet up." He grinned a little sheepishly. "I dressed normally as Yuki for the first time in a long while, but my hair caught them off guard. I tied it back as best I could, but they definitely looked me over a few times, wondering what had changed. Thankfully, they didn’t ask too many questions, but it was close.”

He shook his head with a laugh. "Those three years were filled with situations like that, where I had to find new ways to keep it together. Gradually, I adapted, and after a while, it started feeling natural—even when I switched between Yuki and Miyuki."

As Yuki recounted those memories, the weight they still carried was palpable. Every word held a hint of exhaustion, the kind that never quite fades. Even the smallest details seemed steeped in untold stories, and the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

"So, yeah," Yuki continued, his voice softer now, "I was up before dawn most days, slipping into my 'normal' clothes for Grandma’s sake—just to keep up appearances at home. Then, by sunrise, I’d be on the train to Sato-sensei’s place, where I'd become Miyuki for the day. And at the end of the day, I’d do it all over again in reverse.” He rubbed his forehead, a faint laugh escaping. "It was like leading two lives, Haruki."
I shook my head, realizing how draining that must have been. "Every day…? You must’ve been wiped out."

"More than wiped out." He chuckled faintly, but a shadow lingered in his eyes. "Some nights, I could barely get through dinner with Grandma without zoning out. At first, I’d always make sure to spend weekends with her, but as time went on, I started hanging out with colleagues instead. It felt like I was leaving her out in a way.”

"Did she notice?" I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

Yuki nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah, she noticed. Sometimes, I’d get back late on Sunday nights, and she’d just sigh and say, ‘Busy weekend?’ Always in a cheerful tone, but… I knew it bothered her."

I imagined him, years younger, trying to balance so many worlds, all while keeping a straight face at home. "Did you feel… I dunno, guilty? Like you were hiding too much?"

"Guilty, worried… both." Yuki glanced at me, a half-hearted smile on his face. "The funny part was, sometimes I’d slip up at home. I was so used to being Miyuki that I’d carry those habits back here.”

I grinned, sensing an embarrassing story was coming. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Yuki’s face flushed as he laughed. "There was this one time—I was telling Grandma something, and without thinking, I tucked my hair behind my ear the way I did as Miyuki at work. She just stopped mid-sentence, gave me this long look, and said, ‘Are you turning into a schoolgirl now, Yuki? What’s next? Mascara and lipstick?’ I nearly choked."

I burst out laughing. "That sounds exactly like Grandma. And she had no idea just how close she was to the truth!"
Yuki laughed too, though I sensed a bittersweet edge to it. "Thank goodness she didn’t know. I brushed it off, laughed with her, but it happened more than once. And as my hair kept getting longer… she really started noticing."

He smoothed a hand down his hair. "Back then, it was mid-back length, and every time I touched it, she’d notice. At first, she’d just shake her head and say, ‘Yuki, if you keep letting it grow, you’ll start looking like a girl.’ It was kind of a joke… at first.”

I could almost hear Grandma’s voice. "And she kept it up, didn’t she?"

"Every single time," Yuki replied, sounding exasperated but amused. "When I started tying it back in a ponytail, she’d tease, ‘When did you join a rock band?’ or worse, ‘Are you sure you’re not trying to impress someone special?’ By the time my hair reached my waist, she’d give me these long, curious looks whenever I brushed it.”

I couldn’t help laughing, imagining Grandma's stern gaze every time he walked into the room. "She must have thought you were going through some major phase. Did she ever say anything serious?"

“Oh, plenty.” Yuki rolled his eyes but smiled. “‘Yuki, I can’t believe my son’s son is looking like this,’ or ‘You’d be a fine young man with a proper haircut.’ It was endless, especially each morning when she’d catch me brushing it. Sometimes, I wondered if she’d ever get used to it."
"Did she ever come close to guessing the truth?" I asked, curiosity building.

Yuki shook his head slowly. "No, not directly. I think she sensed something was different, but she just… kept to her jokes. She was always sharp-eyed, though. Part of me wonders if she’d guessed something but chose not to push."

I leaned back, thinking over everything he’d said. "It’s kind of amazing she didn’t pry. She probably knew more than she let on, but respected your boundaries. Three years of this, huh?"

"Three whole years," Yuki said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t crack under her constant remarks. I’m sure she noticed more than just my hair—my posture, the way I’d move—but I just played along, pretending not to notice."

Yuki’s voice grew quieter, his gaze distant. "Then, around the time my hair finally reached my waist… that’s when it happened." His voice trailed off, weighted by something unspoken.

I leaned in, holding my breath. "What happened?"

Yuki (3 Years Ago)

"It was just a normal morning," Yuki began, his voice soft with a hint of nostalgia, as if reaching back in time. "I was getting ready to go to Sato-sensei’s, as usual."

The morning sun filtered gently through the thin curtains of my bedroom, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. I could hear the distant sounds of kids playing outside, their laughter mingling with the faint hum of my radio playing a familiar song. Standing in front of my mirror, I carefully brushed through my hair, the long, dark strands sliding through my fingers, smooth and silky. The weight of it felt comforting, familiar. I enjoyed the ritual, like it was my own little morning escape.

After a few minutes, I gathered my hair and began tying it back in a high ponytail, securing it neatly with a scrunchie. As I checked my reflection, I couldn’t help but smile a little. The ponytail hung down my back, swaying slightly as I moved. My hair had grown so much in the past months, and I was honestly proud of it—the length, the health, the way it framed my face. It was something I felt I could truly call my own.

As I looked outside the window, I saw some of the neighborhood kids playing with a ball, their laughter infectious. One of them caught my gaze, grinned, and waved at me. I waved back, smiling as they went back to their game, and my mind drifted to memories of playing with Haruki back when we were kids. It felt like a lifetime ago, but part of me wondered how he’d react if he saw me now. Would he still recognize me as his big brother, or would he think I’d changed too much?

Lost in thought, I didn’t hear anyone come up behind me until I felt a sharp tug on my ponytail.

“Hey!” I gasped, spinning around, startled. Standing there was Grandma, her expression a mix of disapproval and frustration as she gripped my ponytail with both hands.

"Do you have no shame, Yuki?" she scolded, her voice low but firm. "Look at this hair! It’s grown so long and girly…are you trying to become a girl?"

"Grandma, what are you doing?" I managed, half-shocked, half-pleading, trying to pull my hair free from her grasp. "Please, let go!"

After a moment, she released it, but the judgment in her eyes stung more than the pull on my hair. "I’m sorry, Yuki, but look at yourself. This hair is longer than most of the women I know, and you… you look like a girl because of it.”

My face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "It’s just hair, Grandma. Why does it matter so much?"

"‘Just hair’? Have you looked in the mirror?" She gestured towards my reflection, her voice raising slightly in exasperation. "Even in that ponytail, your hair reaches halfway down your back! You already have a delicate face like your mother, a slender build. If you keep this up, people will think you’re a woman wearing men’s clothes!"

I bit my lip, glancing away. "So what if they do? It doesn’t change anything about who I am."

She gave a long, frustrated sigh, shaking her head. "You know, Yuki, there’s an old saying—'The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.' You’re making yourself a target. People will talk; they already are. The neighbors say things like, ‘Have you seen Fujimoto’s grandson? With that long hair, he looks like one of those city boys trying to be fashionable.’ And I’ve heard worse." Her voice softened, but there was a hurt there. "What must your students think when they see their teacher looking like… this?"

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "They don’t care, Grandma. It’s a modern world. Besides, the students like it. They think it's... stylish."
It was a bit of a stretch, but I couldn’t tell her the truth about Miyuki, about how much my life had changed because of this job. Instead, I tried to deflect. "Besides, having long hair doesn’t make me any less of a man."

She looked at me, truly looked, and for a moment, I saw a flash of pain in her eyes. "You’re the only man of the Fujimoto household left, Yuki,"

she said softly, the weight of her words settling heavily between us. "Why would you do this to yourself, to our family’s name?"

I felt a lump rise in my throat. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her, but I couldn’t just give up something that had become a part of me. "I like my hair this way, Grandma. It reminds me of Mom. And… I don’t want to cut it. It’s something I’m proud of."

She crossed her arms, frustration returning to her face. "So what, you plan to grow it even longer? Keep flaunting it until… until…"

I clenched my fists, my patience wearing thin. "Yes, if that’s what it takes. I don’t care what the neighbors say. This is who I am."

She scoffed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Then you might as well start wearing women’s clothes if you’re so attached to looking like a girl! At least then, you wouldn’t look so… so odd."

Her words cut deeper than I’d expected, and I felt my chest tighten with hurt. I’d been careful, trying to balance this life I led in secret while respecting her, the last family I had. But her words left me feeling raw and exposed. I looked away, fighting back the sting of tears. Does she really see me that way? As a disappointment? As someone who’s abandoned his family?

I glanced at the clock. I couldn’t stay here, not after that. "I… I have to go, Grandma," I said quickly, grabbing my things.

Without another word, I left the house, the sting of her words following me. As I walked down the street, I could feel hot tears gathering in my eyes, and before I knew it, they were spilling over. I wiped them away angrily. Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t she just understand?

Present

Back in the present, Yuki ran his fingers gently through his hair, a wistful look crossing his face. "I was miserable the whole day because of what she’d said," he admitted, his voice quiet and a little shaky. "I know she’s traditional, but… that day, I just felt like… like she’d never see me for who I really was."

I could see how much it had affected him. His usually calm expression was tense, and there was a sadness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. It hit me, really hit me, that this wasn’t just a phase or a style choice for him. It was part of his identity, something he felt deeply.
"Yuki…" I started, searching for the right words. "That… that must have been so hard to go through. I… I’m sorry she couldn’t see it from your perspective."

He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "Thanks, Haruki. I don’t blame her, really. It’s just… it’s hard when the people you love don’t understand."

The Difficulties.

As Yuki’s words lingered in the air, I felt a heaviness settle in my chest. I hadn’t known about this side of his life, about the quiet battles he’d fought just to be himself. The weight of his story, the vulnerability in his voice—it left me feeling closer to him, but also deeply pained on his behalf.

“That… must’ve been hard, Onii-san,” I said softly, hoping he could hear the sincerity in my voice. “It sounds like she didn’t know how to support you, but it’s clear she cared about you a lot. I’m sorry she didn’t fully understand… but I think it’s amazing that you kept going, even with everyone’s opinions trying to hold you back.”

Yuki gave a faint, grateful smile. “Thank you, Haruki.” He took a breath, the tension in his face easing just a bit. “Eventually, I decided to move out and live on my own here in Kyoto. It gave me the space to just… be myself.” He paused, looking around the room before adding, “But, you know what? Let’s take a breather. Let’s go out to the balcony and get some fresh air. I think we both need it after all that.”
I nodded. “Good idea. Let’s go.”

I watched as he stood up, noticing again just how naturally he moved. His hair cascaded down his back, reaching nearly to his ankles—a smooth, inky river that flowed with him, shining subtly in the dim light. I couldn't take my eyes off it. Somehow, in that moment, it felt like an extension of him, a quiet defiance against the expectations everyone else had tried to impose on him.

He walked towards the balcony door, absently sweeping his hair aside as he did, a graceful, instinctive movement. I’d seen long hair on people before, but nothing like this—nothing that felt so effortless, so integrated into the way someone carried themselves. It was mesmerizing, like watching the slow flow of water, calm and steady, each strand catching the light.

For a second, I felt a strange pang. Yuki had gone through so much alone, building his life and his identity without anyone fully understanding him. And yet here he was, standing in front of me, unchanged in his kindness and strength. I felt a new resolve growing inside me. I wanted to support him, to understand him—not just as the cousin I’d known, but as the person he’d become.

As we stepped out onto the balcony, the cool Kyoto air washed over us. Yuki leaned against the railing, letting the wind tease at the edges of his hair, his face calm and thoughtful. It was like he belonged here, in this moment, finally at ease. And as I stood beside him, I felt something shift between us—like a door had opened, one we were both ready to walk through together.

The cool evening breeze swept past us as we stepped out onto the balcony, lifting strands of Yuki’s hair and setting them adrift in the moonlight. Each delicate strand shimmered like threads of silk, catching the silver glow. Yuki closed his eyes and leaned on the railing with a sigh, his expression softening, as if letting go of the weight our conversation had stirred up. I paused, taking in the scene, marveling at the quiet elegance in his every move.

He looked… beautiful. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought he was a woman through and through. His long, flowing hair framed his face like a curtain of black velvet, nearly reaching his ankles. His white blouse hugged his form gently, swaying alongside his skirt in the soft wind. It was surreal—seeing him like this. The Yuki I’d known and the person standing before me felt like two different people, yet somehow, they were still one and the same. From the gloss on his lips to the gentle curve of his frame, every detail was a quiet declaration of who he’d become.
“Yuki,” I began, feeling a strange mix of awe and nostalgia.

He noticed my gaze and smiled, looking both amused and a bit shy. “What are you staring at? Come here,” he said, patting the space beside him on the railing.

I joined him, leaning against the cool metal as the tranquility of the night settled around us. Yuki seemed to melt into the scene—the calm, the night, and the breeze suited him perfectly. Absentmindedly, he twirled a long strand of hair around his fingers, pulling it over his shoulder to keep it from blowing too wildly.

“There’s nothing like a fresh breeze after dredging up the past, huh?” he chuckled. “Living here, I found myself coming out to this balcony all the time… just to think. It’s kind of my escape.”

“Yeah… it’s relaxing out here,” I replied, my gaze drifting from the night sky to the inky strands slipping through his fingers. “I can see why you like it. And… I think I understand now why you kept your hair like this.”

Yuki looked over, touched but slightly amused. “Really? You don’t think it’s just… a lot of trouble for nothing?” He laughed, brushing out a small tangle with practiced ease.

“Not at all,” I grinned. “It must take forever to wash and dry, though.”

Yuki laughed, a light, airy sound that floated into the night. “Well, you’re not wrong. Let’s just say I’ve mastered the art of patience.”
“But it’s worth it,” I said, watching his hair glint in the moonlight. “It’s so ‘you,’ Onii-san… I can tell you love it because you’ve kept it so beautiful.”

His eyes softened, and his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. “Thank you, Haruki… Hearing you say that means more than you know.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was a sense of relief in it, like he’d been reassured in that moment.

He looked away, running his fingers through his hair thoughtfully. “You know… it’s been a long time since someone called me ‘Onii-chan’ or even thought of me as… Yuki.” He laughed softly, a hint of sadness in his tone. “I’ve gotten so used to being Miyuki that I don’t often see myself that way anymore.”

“Really?” I asked, surprised. “Doesn’t it feel strange, leaving a part of yourself behind like that?”

He shrugged slightly, glancing up at the stars. “It did at first. But since moving here, I’ve mostly lived as Miyuki. It’s become second nature,” he said quietly.

I was taken aback, realizing how much he’d transformed to fit this life he’d created. But standing here with his hair drifting in the night breeze, I felt like I was finally seeing both sides of him—the Yuki I’d grown up with and the Miyuki he’d become.

After my fight with Grandma, I ended up at Sato-sensei’s place. I didn’t know where else to go, and the words just started pouring out. She sat with me, just listening, her face calm and understanding as I tried to untangle the mess in my head. When I finally fell silent, exhausted from everything I’d said, she poured me a cup of tea, taking a moment before speaking.

“Yuki,” she began, her voice soft but steady, “have you ever thought about living on your own?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Moving out?” It felt like a strange solution, like running away. “I don’t know… isn’t that just avoiding the problem?”
She shook her head slowly. “No, not avoiding. It’s about giving yourself a chance to breathe—about finding some space where you don’t have to be anyone but yourself. No switching between Yuki and Miyuki, no pressure. Just you… as you are.”

Her words sank in, and I could feel a crack opening in that wall I’d built. Living alone had never crossed my mind, but the way she described it made me wonder if maybe… maybe it was what I needed. A place where I didn’t have to pretend.

Listening, I could almost see him there, caught between his familiar life and this new possibility that felt like freedom. I was struck by how much Sato-sensei seemed to understand him.

“She really saw what you needed, didn’t she?” I murmured, feeling grateful for her presence in his life.

He nodded, a soft smile touching his face. “Yeah, she did. With her encouragement—and some help from her contacts—I found this apartment.” He looked around, his eyes warm with the memory. “It took about two months to get everything sorted, but I finally moved here.”
I leaned in, curious. “And Grandma? How did she react?”

A sigh escaped him, his expression softening as he remembered. “She was sad, at first. I think… she felt like she was losing me. But when I explained, really explained why I needed to do this, she understood. In her own way, she gave me her blessing.” He smiled, a little wistful. “She knew it was what I needed.”

I felt a surge of respect for his grandmother’s understanding. “Did you keep visiting her?”

“Oh, absolutely. I still go back once a month,” he said, his face lighting up. “Funny enough, moving out made things easier for both of us. The space gave her time to process, too. After that, things felt… lighter between us.”

I nodded, genuinely happy for him. “I’m glad. That sounds… healthy.”

He laughed softly. “It was. But moving here on my own wasn’t easy. At first, I tried to stick to my usual clothes—the ones I’d wear at home. You know, my ‘male’ clothes. But it didn’t change anything. People still saw me as a woman.” He looked down, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. “Eventually, I realized it’d just be easier to be Miyuki full-time.”

I could tell he’d found a sense of peace in that decision. “It must have been a big shift,” I said, imagining the kind of freedom he’d experienced—and the weight that lifted from him.

“It was,” he agreed, nodding slowly. “But it made things smoother. No more explaining myself, no constant pressure. Just… calm. Over time, I started looking more like I do now.” He glanced down, brushing a strand of his long hair with a faint smile. “Being Miyuki all the time felt… restful.”

“Wow. So… you never switch back?”

A slight blush touched his cheeks. “Sometimes I do. When I have to. But… it’s complicated.”

He trailed off, his expression reflecting all the years it had taken to reach that balance. There was a quiet confidence in him now, a settled sense of who he was that he’d fought so hard to find.

I glanced at him, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. “Bet it’s pretty hard to keep all that under wraps, huh?” I gestured vaguely, indicating his figure.

Yuki laughed, his face turning a shade pinker. “You have no idea. Especially with these.” He gestured to his chest, looking both amused and embarrassed.

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. “So… why even go through all that? I mean, isn’t it a pain trying to go back to ‘Yuki’ with, well… breasts?”

He sighed, scratching his cheek a little sheepishly. “Alright, I’ll explain. Back when I was just using padding or fake ones, it was a nightmare. Teaching all day, moving around, trying to act natural… they’d get itchy, uncomfortable. I was always sweating, fidgeting. It was exhausting.”

He shook his head, clearly recalling the hassle. “So after I moved here, I found a doctor who specializes in hormone treatments. I didn’t want to fully transition or anything—I just wanted something that felt… more real.”

“So… these are…?” I blinked, processing what he was saying.

He laughed, a little embarrassed. “They’re real, yes. No implants. The doctor prescribed a mix of low-dose hormones and some topical treatments. Took some time, but… well, here we are.”

I stared, incredulous. “Wait, so… they’re real? Like, completely yours?”

He chuckled, his cheeks still tinged pink. “Yeah. Homegrown, you could say.”

“Wow.” I tried to keep a straight face, but the shock must’ve shown. “You know, you told me not to judge, but I have to say—that’s wild.”
He pouted, giving me a light shove. “Hey! You promised no judgment.”

“I’m not judging!” I said, grinning. “Just… surprised. I mean, I don’t think that’s exactly… reversible.”

He shrugged, looking thoughtful but not regretful. “Haruki, I made my peace with it a long time ago. This is who I am now.” There was a quiet confidence in his voice, a sense of self-acceptance that ran deep.

I couldn’t help but grin. “Damn, Onii-san, you really have become an ‘Onee-san,’ huh?”

He burst out laughing, and in that moment, I saw him fully relax, the weight of all our serious talks lifting just a bit as we shared this lighter moment. “Well, the truth is, I’m okay with that. I realized early on that I’m… both Yuki and Miyuki. Maybe deep down, I’m still Yuki, but I’m not really one or the other.”

As I looked at him, I felt a newfound respect. He wasn’t just my cousin—he was someone who’d chosen his own path, embracing both sides of himself without apology.

“So… you said you still go as ‘Yuki’ sometimes,” I asked, still curious. “How does that even work now, with… you know, the whole look?”
He chuckled, looking a little sheepish. “It’s… challenging. I usually go for baggier clothes, keep my hair tied up. And I try not to draw too much attention to myself. But honestly, people see what they want to see. It doesn’t bother me as much anymore.”

I nodded, impressed by his self-assurance. He’d made choices that felt true to himself, and I could see the peace that had come from that. “You’re really something, Onii-san.”

He smiled softly. “Thanks, Haruki.”

Yuki gave me a sly smile. “Honestly, the hard part isn’t the breasts. They’re not as big as they look,” he said, still grinning.
“Really? How does that work?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to imagine it.

“It’s a bit of a trick, you know,” he chuckled. “A little padding goes a long way in making them look fuller than they are. I didn’t want them too big—makes it easier to go back to being ‘Yuki’ when I need to. But still, hiding them isn’t exactly easy. With some bandages or baggy clothes, I can manage.”

He paused, then ran his fingers through the endless length of his hair. “But this… this is the real challenge.”

I glanced at his hair, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, that’s a lot harder to hide.”

“When I visit Grandma, I just wear it in a bun—like you saw this morning. She knows it’s long, but not quite this long. That works fine for her, but when it comes to meeting old friends or colleagues, it’s tricky.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I mean, how do you hide hair that nearly reaches your ankles?”

I grinned, imagining him trying to keep it together at these meet-ups. “So… it’s only when you’re with old friends that you feel out of place?”
He nodded, looking thoughtful. “Though I don’t mind meeting new people as either Yuki or Miyuki, it still feels awkward running into people who knew me before.”

“I get that,” I said, sensing there was more under the surface. “So… what happened at these reunions?”

The first incident he told me was one from three years ago, about four or five months after he’d moved into his own apartment. It was early winter, and he’d met up with some college friends he hadn’t seen in a while.

Yuki had gone out in casual male attire, dressed in a hoodie, with his hair neatly twisted into a tight bun to keep it hidden. At first, the gathering went smoothly—they were all joking, eating, and catching up on everyone’s lives. But as the night wore on, strands of hair began to escape from his bun. A loose curl fell here and there, and he tried to brush it back without drawing too much attention.

Unfortunately, his friend’s girlfriend had keen eyes and even keener intuition. She noticed a few of the longer strands and gave Yuki a curious look. “Yuki-kun,” she said, a hint of a smile forming on her face, “is your hair… really long?”

He smiled ruefully as he told me. “I looked at her and knew right away that I couldn’t hide it anymore. You see, I can act like a woman, look like one, but I can’t copy a woman’s intuition.” He chuckled, a mix of admiration and frustration in his voice. "They can always tell.”

Despite Yuki’s efforts to shrug it off, his friend’s girlfriend leaned in, genuinely intrigued. “Come on,” she insisted. “You have to show us.”

Reluctantly, Yuki undid the bun, allowing his hair to fall down his back. He recalled the surprised yet fascinated look on her face. She couldn’t believe that someone she remembered as a young man now looked like this, with such flowing hair and a delicate frame.

They ended up laughing about it, and Yuki mentioned how she even offered to teach him a few tips on styling, knowing how difficult it must have been for him. Her acceptance and easygoing nature had made him feel at ease.

Then, Yuki paused, as if recalling another story that lingered closer to his heart.

“This next one was about a year ago,” he began, his voice softening a little.

He had agreed to meet up with an old friend from high school, a girl who had reached out, needing help finding a place to stay while in Kyoto. Yuki said it was a Sunday, and he had overslept, rushing to get ready. By now, his hair had grown down to his thighs, and the regular tricks he’d used—like wearing a hoodie or a cap—didn’t work as well anymore. In his haste, he’d tied his hair in a bun, doing his best to hide its length, and he wore his usual baggy male clothes to hide his figure.

When they first met, she looked him up and down, surprised. “Yuki, you… look different. The bun is new!” she commented, an amused tone in her voice.

Yuki smiled, brushing it off, and they continued catching up. But he could tell she was still eyeing him now and then, like she couldn’t quite piece together what had changed.

Then, midway through their conversation, he felt the familiar weight of his hair loosening. His bun was coming undone. He excused himself to the restroom, and when he tried to redo it, he realized it was a lost cause. Sighing, he let his hair down, tying it into a high ponytail that still reached down to his lower back. He took a deep breath, prepared for her reaction when he returned.

When she saw him, her eyes widened, but her expression softened quickly into an understanding smile. “So, this is the ‘new Yuki’?” she asked warmly.

Yuki nodded, a bit shy but no longer hiding. They continued their conversation, and she was nothing but supportive. She even expressed how much she admired his courage to live so freely, to embrace who he was, whether that was Yuki or Miyuki. Her acceptance had left a lasting impact on him.

He finished the stories with a soft smile, his gaze fixed on the stars above.

I stayed silent, moved by his openness, finally saying, “I’m glad they could see you as you are, Onii-san. It must have felt good to have that kind of acceptance.”

Yuki’s eyes met mine, and he nodded. “It did. Living this way… it has its challenges, but it’s worth it when people understand.”

I nodded, feeling a little choked up myself. “And that’s exactly who I want you to be—just you.”

We shared a quiet moment, breathing in the night air as the city stretched below us, bathed in a gentle glow of streetlights and distant neon signs. The warmth between us felt steady, like a quiet, comforting presence that needed no more words.

Then a thought struck me, something I’d been wondering since he began sharing his story. I hesitated for a moment before asking, but curiosity got the best of me. “Can I ask you something, Yuki?”

He looked at me, his expression soft and attentive, waiting.

“It’s… about your hair,” I continued, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Why did you let it grow this long? I mean, you could’ve stopped at, like, waist-length or something, right? Why go… this far?”

Yuki glanced at me, his hand moving almost unconsciously to his hair. He twirled a strand between his fingers, a soft, almost delicate movement. His eyes looked distant, as if he were remembering something dear. “Well, part of me wanted to grow it as long as I could,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yuki paused, his gaze fixed on the silky strands slipping through his fingers. Each one seemed to fall in slow motion, catching the soft glow of the streetlights below. “I grew it out… for Mom. And… for you.”

“For me?” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I intended. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I tried to mask my surprise, but I couldn’t hide it completely.

He looked over at me, an amused glint in his eyes that quickly softened into something gentler. “Yeah,” he said quietly, dropping his gaze, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “Mom told me you were really sad when you thought I’d cut my hair a few years ago for a job interview. She said… you’d even been trying to grow your own hair out to match mine. And she thought it’d disappoint you if I ever cut it short.”

“Oh.” I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and warmth. “Yeah, I remember… I was just a kid, I guess.”

He smiled at me then—soft, almost maternal—and I caught a glimpse of something deeply affectionate in his eyes. “Your mom understood how much you looked up to me, even if I hadn’t been around much. And… she liked my long hair, too. She used to say it reminded her of my own mother. My mom had healthy hair like mine, she’d say. Your mom always wanted me to keep it long because it made her feel connected to my mom, even after she passed.”

He glanced away, his fingers still idly threading through his hair, like he could hide behind it. “So… for her, and for you, I kept it. I thought… if you ever came to visit, I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

His words stirred something deep in my chest, a tightness I hadn’t expected. I swallowed, suddenly aware of the weight of what he’d done, the silent care he’d put into something as simple—and as powerful—as holding onto his hair. The glow from the streetlights below seemed to turn his long, dark hair into an ethereal, shimmering curtain, catching each flicker like a halo.

Without thinking, I blurted, “You didn’t disappoint, Yuki.” My voice trembled, almost cracking, but I didn’t care. I forced myself to look up at him, even as I felt my face warm. “Honestly, I think you have… the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.”

Yuki’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he looked away quickly, fingers tightening around a lock of his hair as though he could hide behind it. “Haruki, don’t… don’t say it like that,” he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the night air. He sounded flustered, caught off guard in a way that was both endearing and heartbreaking.

For a moment, neither of us could look at each other. We both turned our eyes downward, pretending to be captivated by the bustling crowds and bright lights below. But I noticed the way he fiddled with his sleeve, that small nervous habit I remembered from years ago. He had this shy smile on his face, his cheeks still pink, and he kept tugging at his hair, brushing it over one shoulder, as if he was uncertain what to do with himself.

Standing beside him, I felt like I was seeing a different side of Yuki—someone gentler, more vulnerable. He was still my older brother in so many ways, but he had changed too, softened by time and memory. He’d held onto something precious, for himself and for me. And I felt like I understood him a little better.

The cool night air carried the distant hum of laughter and voices from the street below. Everything around us blurred, as though we were in a world of our own on that balcony. It was awkward and familiar, all at once—a mix of past and present, of the brother I knew and the person he’d become. The streetlights gave his hair an otherworldly glow, like some kind of dark, delicate waterfall.

After a long pause, I finally managed, “It means a lot, you know? That you’d… think about me, even back then.”

Yuki glanced sideways at me, a small, almost bashful smile still on his lips. He nodded, brushing his hair back with a gentle flick of his wrist that looked so natural for him now. It was these little gestures that made him seem so different, yet they fit him perfectly. And in that moment, I felt a surge of gratitude—for the brother I’d missed, for the person he was, and for the silent ways he’d always kept us connected.

The Bonding.

As my stomach gave a not-so-subtle growl, Yuki-onii-san turned to me, clearly holding back a grin. “Sounds like someone’s got a monster in there,” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Good thing it didn’t start demanding food while we were in the middle of that deep talk!”

I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, I guess I forgot to eat today...not even lunch,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Ah, running on empty, huh? Well, I’m hungry too, so let’s make a plan. Since it’s your first day here, it’s my treat!” Yuki-onii-san said with a warm smile.

“Really? Thanks, Yuki-onii-san! That sounds great.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I know a good soba place nearby. It’s quick but still has that cozy, home-cooked taste. But before we go, I should tie my hair up… Can’t leave it down like this when we’re out.”

“Good point,” I agreed, glancing at the glossy, endless strands that reached nearly to his ankles, catching the soft glow of the room lights.
As we moved back inside, his hair swung gracefully with each step. I could tell he was already thinking about the best way to tie it up—a high ponytail, maybe? Something quick and practical, but still unmistakably Yuki-onii-san’s style.

As Yuki-onii-san slipped into his room, I followed at a respectful distance, curious about the transformation that was about to unfold. He grabbed a brush and the familiar scrunchie he’d used earlier and made his way to the mirror near the bathroom. Standing there, he brushed his hair with quick, practiced strokes, his movements fluid and graceful.

I couldn’t help but ask, “What kind of style are you going for?”

He glanced at me through the mirror, smiling slightly. “Just a quick ponytail,” he replied, sounding casual but focused as he continued to brush.
Yuki-onii-san's long black hair fell like a shimmering waterfall, catching the light as he ran the brush through it with skillful precision. With a final sweep, he gathered all his hair in his hands, pulling it high with a swift, familiar motion. He twisted the scrunchie around his thick bundle of hair, securing it firmly at the crown of his head. Even in this simple ponytail, his hair still cascaded all the way down to his thighs, swaying gracefully as he adjusted it. It was striking—sleek and elegant, emphasizing the length and volume even more.

He turned to face me, giving a little twirl as if to show off his handiwork. “So, how does it look?” he asked with a grin.

I looked at him, genuinely impressed. “It’s the longest ponytail I’ve seen on anyone. It looks great, but... if I’m honest, it’s definitely got a bit of a feminine vibe to it.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “That’s kind of the idea. So, shall we?”

We both walked to the doorway to slip on our footwear. I bent down to put on my shoes, while Yuki-onii-san, still in his work clothes and now gracefully towering in a pair of elegant heels, was securing his own. Just before we stepped out, I hesitated and looked up at him.
“Hey, so… how should I address you in public?”

He smirked, his tone shifting slightly as he spoke with a playful lilt, “Onee-san would be better.” His voice softened, almost becoming that of another person—a voice I was still adjusting to, that of ‘Miyuki.’

“Onee-san! I’m still not used to this voice of yours, Miyuki.” I laughed, feeling that strange, surreal closeness to someone both familiar and new.
“And I’m still not used to hearing you call me that,” he said, laughing with me. It was that easy, natural laughter we’d shared as kids, the kind that had been missing for far too long.

We stood there for a second, both smiling. Just a day ago, Yuki-onii-san had been this distant figure, someone I’d barely talked to in years. But here we were, bantering and sharing stories as if no time had passed, like brothers who understood each other deeply yet had so much more to learn.

As we finally stepped outside, I glanced at him, still feeling the warmth of the day’s conversations lingering between us. Yuki closed the door behind us with a soft click, and we walked side by side into the evening glow, the city lights beginning to twinkle above.

As I took in the moment, I thought to myself, And this is how I started living with my cousin-brother, who has now turned into a long-haired beauty.

It was just the beginning of our story together, and I knew there were countless questions yet to ask, countless stories yet to hear. But for now, as we walked out into the night, I was simply grateful for this second chance to know him again.