Chapter Text
I find myself crying.
I can never remember the dream I just had, but…
But… the sensation that I’ve lost something lingers for a long time.
I’m always searching for something… for someone.
This feeling possesses me, I think, from that day…
That day when the stars fell. It was almost as if…
… As if it were a scene from a dream.
Nothing more, nothing less -
than a beautiful view.
-
Miyuki jolted awake to the sound of a generic alarm blaring from somewhere beside him. He glanced around, becoming more and more confused as he did. Where was he? Where were his glasses?
It was then that he noticed he could see quite clearly without them.
He shifted a little on the bed and noticed a strange weight to his chest. Startled, he brought his hand up and felt the unfamiliar softness of… boobs? He brought his other hand up to confirm that beneath the well-worn fabric of an oversized t-shirt, were indeed a pair of boobs.
“Eijun!” called an unfamiliar voice from somewhere outside the room. “You better be getting ready for school!”
“Eijun?” Miyuki asked out loud, and was startled by the high, bouncy quality of his voice.
He pushed himself out of the bed and stumbled over to a full-body mirror that was propped against the opposite wall.
Staring into the mirror only confused Miyuki more, and he reached down to pull the t-shirt over his head. He slowly took in the shaggy dark hair, the golden eyes, the roundness of his chest, and the distinct change between his legs.
“Huh?!”
-
Sawamura was scooping rice into his bowl at the breakfast table when his grandfather cleared his throat. “You’re normal today.”
Sawamura frowned. “What are you talking about?”
He didn’t get to hear his grandfather’s response, however, because a bell chimed from the radio signaling the start of an announcement. Sawamura groaned. “Good morning, everyone. This is an announcement from Itomori Town Hall… regarding the mayoral election… to be held on the 20th next month, the election committee -”
Sawamura yanked the radio’s power cord out of the wall, suddenly angry. He turned back to the table and switched the TV on to some news story about a comet that would be passing by next month.
His grandfather sighed. “Eijun, I know your father hasn’t always been the most supportive..”
Eijun snorted. “Don’t try to defend him, Ojiichan. He dumped me with you the minute I told him I was a boy.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. You deserve to be angry with him. But you know I’ve never regretted taking you in.”
His grandfather smiled warmly at him. And he was right. Eijun knew he would have never had the confidence to transition while living in such a small town without the support of his grandpa. He had even made it to a point where he felt comfortable playing on his high school’s baseball team.
“I know that, Ojiichan.” Sawamura tugged on the red cord that he wore around his neck, a habit he had started to do whenever he needed comfort or reassurance. His grandpa had woven it and given it to him before the first official match that he played on the boy’s team, as a good luck charm. He had been wearing it ever since.
-
On the walk to school, Sawamura encountered his two best friends riding towards him on a single bicycle. Furuya sat in front, his fingers clenching the handlebar breaks as they coasted slowly to a stop. Haruichi was perched on the back of the seat, using the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Furuya’s waist to wave cheerfully at Sawamura.
“Eijun!” Haruichi called.
Sawamura grinned. “Morning Haru-chan, Furuya!”
“Morning!” said Haruichi brightly.
“Get off,” Furuya grumbled with little heat.
Haruichi huffed. “Meanie. Why?”
“You’re too heavy.”
“That’s rude.”
Sawamura laughed as he continued down the road. “You two get along so well.”
“We do not!” snapped Haruichi and Furuya in unison.
Haruichi turned pointedly away from Furuya and directed his attention to Sawamura. “Looks like you remembered your binder today.”
Sawamura froze. “What?”
“Seriously, it’s not like you to forget it,” Furuyu added.
“What on earth are you guys talking about?” Sawamura asked.
“You really don’t remember?” Haruichi looked skeptical. “You were a little, um, nips out yesterday. I asked if you’d been too asleep to remember to put on your binder. You said yes so Furuyu lent you his sweater for the rest of the day.”
Sawamura felt his cheeks flame red in embarrassment. “Huh?!”
“Yesterday you also forgot where your desk and locker were,” Haruichi said gently.
“You had no binder and no red cord,” Furyua added.
“What? No way! Really?” Sawmura was baffled.
“It was like you had amnesia.”
“Well,” Sawamura mused. “I do feel like I’ve been in a weird dream lately… a dream about someone else’s life?” He paused, feeling like he could see a boy with glasses and golden hair just at the edge of his memory. “I can’t remember clearly.”
“I know!” Furuya piped up, brandishing his conspiracy theory magazine. “I bet you were remembering… your previous life! Or maybe, your subconscious linked to the multiverse!”
Haruichi rolled his eyes. “Stay out of this, idiot.”
By then they had crossed the city bridge and were in the viewing range of his father campaigning to some of the locals.
“E****!” His father called. “Stand up straight!”
Sawamura felt white hot embarrassment and rage wash over him at his father using his deadname in front of all these people. Everyone in this town had known him before he transitioned, but his father’s continued disregard for his correct name and pronouns only made his struggle to be seen as Sawamura Eijun, the boy, feel that much more futile.
“In front of everybody,” he muttered, before hurrying to get as far from his father as possible.
-
That night before their game against a neighboring high school, Sawamura was flipping through the notebook that he used to record his batting stats, when he came across a message scrawled in messy black ink across an entire page.
“WHO ARE YOU?” it read.
Sawamura blinked. Who could have written this? Was it Furuya trying to make him believe in one of his conspiracy theories? He’d have to ask him after their game.
A boy with glasses and golden hair pushed at the edges of Sawamura’s memory, but when he tried to focus on him, he blew away like smoke.
As Sawamura stood on the mound he could hear the gossiping voices of the people in the crowd. The voices wondered if Sawamura’s father was proud of his son for following in his footsteps as the ace of the team. They wondered how the mayor felt about having a child that was transgender.
Sawamura wanted to tell the voices to shut up.
After he struck out the first batter, they did.
He wished they would stay that way. He wished he could escape to Tokyo and start fresh in a place where no one knew him.
-
That night before bed, Sawamura sat on the roof of his grandfather’s house and prayed to the stars:
“I hate this town! I hate how nosy everyone is! Please, please make me a handsome Tokyo boy in my next life!”
And if he was picturing the face of a boy with glasses and golden hair staring back at him when he looked in the mirror, that was neither here nor there.