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"Are those flowers?"
The girl in the playground huffs, keeping them away. "They're not for you."
"H-huh? N-no, I, I… I wasn't-"
"They're for my friends. We're having a sleepover tonight," she says, kicking her legs and smiling. "We're all gonna make flower crowns for each other."
"…Wow. That sounds like fun…"
The girl looks at her and frowns. "You're not invited!"
"Huh?! I-I… I didn't say I was…!"
"Good. Don't go to sleepovers at a girl's house. Boys shouldn't do that, okay?"
"…Eh? Why?"
"Because you start thinking weird things when you get older. That's what my brother told me. And my mum said:"
She sings it merrily, with a playful, jeering tongue. Unaware of the nettles beneath its edge.
"If a boy comes over to snooze, something icky will happen to you!"
---
"U-urk."
The tap opens.
…And closes.
A breath.
A forest of shade, covering trees, their dewdrops glowing luminescent green.
Mashiro dries her face with a towel in a peaceful, warmly-lit bathroom, before looking up at the mirror. She was extremely unsure how to respond when her writing partner and fellow novella fiend invited her over… the two of them are close to Mashiro's heart now, close enough that she'd consider them some of the most important people she has outside of Morfonica. Ako is one of her best friends; the two of them started spending a lot of time together back in high-school, and because of that, she found someone she had so much in common with. They'd spend hours and hours talking of angelic wisps and demonic edges, and through her, Mashiro entered a new side of fantasy she'd rarely considered before. It was just so refreshing to be with someone who wasn't from a rich family, too; even as much as she liked Tsukinomori, she never quite felt like she fit, and the kinds of places Ako visits when hanging out are much more like hers. Though if there's anyone whose taste in fiction resonates with hers as much as Ako's, it's definitely Rinko. The two have made a mass trade of recommendations at this point, and Rinko's collection is… staggering. It was nerve-wracking to be introduced to such an incredible person at first, but it took no time at all for Rinko to make her feel at home… not just because Rinko is so nice, but also because she has many of the same doubts Mashiro has; and taste in clothes, too! It makes Mashiro feel all the less alone…
But that's why this is so… argh! She's stayed over with friends before, but she was usually quick to dip out before night, because… well, it just feels awkward to be in another girl's house for that long. Whenever the idea of staying late, or worse yet, a sleepover, comes up, she ends up talking more to her own thoughts than to others before eventually deciding to excuse herself. She didn't grow up like they did; she had a different upbringing, because nobody knew who she was. She'd spend most of her time hiding in her house, stumbling across things she still wishes she could unsee. She's someone who longs for fireflies when the sludge kicks at her knees. She always gets the feeling she doesn't belong. It's a habit she can rarely kick, even with Morfonica; all she has to do is look at her own chin to send her stomach into a pit. So of course, of *course*, absolute genius she is, when Ako and Rinko invited her over for a sleepover, she accidentally accepted in her rush to reject, because she can't pull herself together for two seconds and muster the will to turn a friend down, and…
…Now she's here, standing on a floor whose every tile reflects her face. It was fine when Morfonica had one eventually; but they knew her secret. Ako and Rinko don't. What if they find out?
…Uuugh… she thought she'd be more confident by now. She can remember crying in Tsukushi's arms all those years ago, thinking she'd gotten over this entirely. But it's not some one-time curse; it's a stream of winding, thorned vines, brushing uncomfortably against her arms, always moving past her, around her, ahead of her, and cutting her skin as it does.
"Mashiro? Are you okay…?"
"W-wah!"
She jolts out of her spiral, and she's back in the bathroom. Rinko's soft voice seeps in from outside, wrapping the gleaming floor in a tender concern. "You've been there for a while… so Ako was getting worried."
…Oh, no. How does she always manage to mess things-
-She breathes. Please. Don't think of yourself like that anymore. Y-you're supposed to have gotten better at this, right? Besides… there's so much you want to talk about with them again. "Sorry, I just had a bit of an accident," she responds, opening the door. "Is Ako in your room?"
Rinko nods. "She's… very excited, as usual."
Mashiro smiles a bit. "Hehe. I'd bet."
She walks alongside the one she admires as they head over. Sometimes she feels like Rinko is a better version of her in every way; but she'd never say it. She doesn't want to think of such a kind and close friend like that.
"Mashiro!!!" The literal second she opens the door, Ako's voice shoots at her like a cannonball, and Mashiro recoils from the sheer light her energetic friend emanates. Ako quickly scrambles up and heads over for a high five, which she timidly returns. "How fare thee, my comrade of twisting flowers? It's been 3000 years…"
"Yeah, it's been a busy few weeks," Mashiro responds. "It's nice to see you again."
"Come on in!"
She steps inside; Rinko then closes the door behind her… and she swallows. She won't panic. She just has to remember; she's a friend to them, not some kind of… infection. She nervously plays with her hair, trying to let Ako's energy put her at ease. It was an overwhelming energy to face when they first met, but over time, enough exposure to that light has made her comfortable in it. The world feels alive in the demon's wake… hehe.
"You have a really cool dress, by the way!" The demon in question says, looking at the mellow blue fabric. "I kinda wish I was in something that wasn't a hoodie now."
Well, so she says. But even in lax clothing, Ako has so much personality. The belts on her legs, the soft blacks and deep red… "I mean, sleepovers aren't exactly fancy," Mashiro reasons, "b-besides, it's just a dress. It's nothing special… not as expressive as you."
"Eh? You're just as expressive in your own way," Ako says. "You and Rinko have this kinda like… effect, y'know? You always wear these long flowing clothes with soft, uh… flows, and it feels so… y'know? It makes me feel like I'm hearing a single drop of water in a silent lake of the pitch-black night…!"
Wh.
Wha?
What does that mean?! That was so… unexpectedly clear, and enchanting. She can't even recall the last time Ako's described anything without using the word 'dark' or 'nefarious'. It feels so disorienting that she can't refute it. So she just ends up laughing a bit. "You think so?"
"I agree... I think it suits you, Mashiro. You're like a fairy~."
She looks up at Rinko, sees a lovely smile, then instantly glues her gaze to the ground so she doesn't melt. "I-I-I-I… th-thanks…"
"Fufu~."
Ohhh, how is she supposed to argue against that? It's better not to. That's too nice a compliment to reject anyway; it makes her feel warm, and bubbly, and like she doesn't want to dwell on anything for now.
Mashiro takes a seat at a miniature table in the middle of this haven. It's a comfortable space as always. Apparently Rinko is pretty well off, and she definitely spoils her girlfriend a lot with what she has. There's the absolutely amazing personal library Mashiro is already deeply acquainted with, the double-desks each with two monitors… a TV shelf at one end with a slew of games consoles, and a piano as its diametric opposite in tone and location. And even with all that, plus the futon laid out for her, it's big enough here that she doesn't feel stuffed. The entire room is an open book, rich with text; it tells a long, interwoven fable of dovetailing passions and linked lives, and at the same time it's such a comfortable and peaceful space. It's lively, yet calm, warm, yet cool… like a swaying breeze through a forest garden, the passing years adorning it with glowing flowers of so many kinds in so many corners. A place where even the water itself glows with life.
Well… aside from the bin stuffed with snack wrappers. Mashiro's not really a junk food (or most food) enthusiast. But it's charming in its own way, isn't it? Hehe.
"Mashiro, Mashiro," Ako clatters, "how's the prologue going?"
"I-I think it's turning out alright," she responds, though it's hard to be certain when she's never had any writing other than her lyrics get feedback. "Pretty soon, I'll get to the scene where she acquires the staff and gets surrounded by the evil eyes, so I'll message you once that happens."
"Rejoice! Soon my most unholy of vocabulary shall be unleashed!" Ako declares, extending her arm… but pausing halfway. "Rinrin, you can help if I need some extra incantations of power, right? Juuust in case."
"Fufu. I'd be happy to…" Rinko says. "You sound like you're both enjoying where the story's headed now… you make a good team."
"You can thank Mashiro for that!" Ako makes a proud pose, to which Mashiro shyly scratches her hair. "You came up with something wicked-cool, didn't you?"
Ah, that's right. The premise's changed quite a bit since they last talked about it with Rinko... "Do you remember the blessed staff lying deep in the woods at the start? We decided it was actually a kind of living essence that takes a shape befitting the wielder's desires. It served as a walking aid and magical amplifier to its previous wielder, and it stayed in that form after her passing, protecting the forest. But when the protagonist finds and touches it, it slowly morphs into an unbreakable blade and loses its previous function. That's become our exploring point for her character, I think."
"It's so COOL!" Ako says, fistpumping. "I can't wait for when I get to describe it, and go all KA-BLAMM!”
Rinko giggles. "You sound very excited to write it."
"She has a lot of fun with the more… bombastic parts of the story," Mashiro says, smiling. "I'm writing most of the skeleton and setting for the chapter, before I pass those moments on to her."
"An object that reflects the will of its creator and inheritors… so was the brilliance that poured from the mind of your mental rose," Ako booms. "You're a god of imagination!"
Ourgh. Praise from Ako is a terrifying thing, especially when she pulls off her vocab. It's both genuine and extremely dramatic, a combination that threatens to keel Mashiro over. She looks slightly away and hurriedly sips the tea Rinko made. "Y-you're exaggerating…"
"It's a very interesting idea… how did you come up with it?" Rinko asks.
"A-ah… to be honest, it started with a novel I found online recently. It had a village of witches whose main identity was the destructive spells they offered to others. But because they slowly became surrounded by peacefaring factions, and their ancestors had no other legacy to leave behind, they had trouble adapting themselves to new eras, and were unwilling to change. The story ends with their village on the verge of collapse. It… made me think about how the things you create can leave a lasting impact on others. Not just through what you do with them, but through their intended purpose and design, even after they're no longer in your hands-" …Wait, oh god, she got so lost there. "A-ah, sorry, I rattled on a bit! Now I just sound like I'm ripping the author off…"
"I think it… comes off much more as inspiration than copying," Rinko says. "An object that changes to reflect the user's desires, and impacts others through the way it's then used… I think that sounds very creative."
"Besides, it becomes a sword!" Ako emphasizes. "What intentions brew in the mind of our protagonist for it to take such a shape…?! Is it to destroy, or protect?! Ka-BLAM!"
Mashiro giggles. "After I read that novel, I was writing lyrics for a new Morfonica song. That's when the idea started taking shape," she continues, wandering. "I thought about all the times I'd written previously. I do it a lot to air out my thoughts, and… for relief, I guess. When I'm not doing it for the band, it's usually a poem instead, or disconnected thoughts that're stuck in my mind. And they're not always hopeful; I vent out a lot of stress and negativity into them as well."
"You can vent through poems?" Ako asks, curious.
She nods. "When something I fear, or hate, or worry about, is brewing in my head, I write it down. There'll be times where that ends up forming lyrics for the band, but I only do that if there's some kind of hope in them. And usually… there isn't. Especially not as of late. I keep a lot of my worser thoughts away from my songs, tucked away in scrawled-over notepads. It made me think about how different Morfonica's influence might have been if I used *those* kinds of lines as lyrics, instead…" She blinks. Should she actually be talking about this? Isn't it really embarrassing to say you do stuff like this? She quickly backpedals; "A-although when I word it like that, it sounds a little silly, doesn't it? Like one of those 'welcome to my twisted mind' banners… haha…"
Ako shakes her head, her voice becoming a bit softer. "There's nothing wrong with relieving stress through fantasy! I beat up demons and monsters in videogames all the time when I'm feeling down."
She's not quite sure if playing action games is the same as writing about gender dysphoria, but… she'd rather not specify. Well… w-would Ako even judge her if she did? Like, Ako might not 'get it', but she probably wouldn't say anything malicious. Ako's too sweet for that-
-W-why is she wondering about this? Stop it. Ako doesn't know, and neither does Rinko. Keep it that way. Stop thinking.
"I relieve stress through writing sometimes too. I've made a few poems… as well as some fa- u-uh, fiction," Rinko says, averting her gaze. "It's not easy to explain why, but it just feels… calming, expressing what you worry about in that way. Putting it into words."
…Yeah. There's nothing like it. Mashiro gazes hazily into her tea, looking down at its monotone depths. "I think… no matter how much time passes, it's something I always do. I need that way of looking at my thoughts. At myself. Because they're in my head a lot. M-most of the time, even." The garden fades. "I always have doubts about myself, my body, the kind of person I am… whether I'm a… a-"
'Threat.'
The word is caught in her throat, stuck there to stifle her breath and steal the life from it. She stopped it from coming out at the last moment; violently suppressed what was meant to be hidden deep in the vines, what had nearly crawled its way out before she realized what she was saying.
"Mashiro? You okay?"
Ako's concern pangs in her chest. The wedge in her throat threatens to flood. Why is she here? It's 10pm now; she should've left ages ago. She doesn't belong here, not at a place like this! She let herself into this welcoming, softly-lit room, even though Ako and Rinko… aren't like her. Why did she forget that?
…No. She knew. She knew this entire time. But of course, she ignored it; because it was more convenient for her to forget. Sh-she's always like this... too meek to even call herself out.
"Do you… want to talk, Mashiro?" Rinko asks. "We're happy to listen. It's nice to have friends you can share your thoughts with too."
She looks up; even as they express concern, there's a part of her that wants to turn away, but she can't bring herself to. Not when it's some of her closest friends. They're important to her, and… she's important to them. Especially to Ako. When everyone else in Roselia first graduated… Ako was so happy to have friends she could still hang out with often. She remembers that time; it was one of the first times she realized there were people who felt warmth from having her presence in their life.
But she's never told anyone outside the band her secret. And… the idea of them finding out… finding out that she's not the same as them… that she's some kind of mucky pile of flesh, imitating them… i-if they looked at her with fear after she broke her silence, if her friends looked at her with fear after she told them the truth, then…
…It's. It's not fair. "It's not fair…"
Ako moves closer, trying to reach towards her shoulder. "Mashiro…?"
There's a trail of rain. "I've already done this before… I already told Morfonica. I already told my mom. And they all accepted me. They all still cared for me. I-I should… feel better about myself than I used to. And yet I still feel like I'm going to end up alone… I still think of myself as something… wrong." It pours out. "N-no. I *am* something wrong. E-even after I think I've accepted myself… I still find something new to hate! I've seen things I never wanted to see… I'm scared of so many people out there, scared of the person *I* once was, the way the worst parts of that person still live in me… I can tell myself I'm a girl now, but it doesn't change the years I spent before internalizing… everything. It's still there now, no matter what I do. It doesn't matter how much time passes, I… I'm still scared. I'm still scared to tell people! I-I... I don't want to!"
She pushes herself up and tries to leave. Ako grabs her arm. "Don't. Please, tell me."
"Get off me."
"Mashiro, please. We're here for you."
That's only because they don't know. "...Let me go…"
"I'm not going to."
"Let me go, Ako."
"I told you, I'm not going to."
She stares back, gritting her teeth with eyes aflame. "I said, let me go!"
"Make me!"
But it doesn't deter Ako. In fact, there's a powerful, almost fearful fire in Ako's gaze. It's… radiant. Her grip is shaky, trying to make itself firm by holding back the dew of consideration that makes her *her*, and she's staring at Mashiro like she knows what Mashiro is on the cusp of saying. But… "No. Y-you don't understand. You're not like me. You don't get it… you're open about your imagination, and your expression… more open than I could ever be. You're honest, and kind, and caring. You're sensitive to how people feel. You're more true to yourself than anybody I've ever met… and I can't be like that! People wouldn't trust me if I acted like that!" Another sob breaks through as her arm binds itself, unwilling to leave yet too scared to stay. "People trust you. They know you're not hiding anything. I-if I tried to be like you… if I didn't hide anything about myself, then… people would think I'm a creep! They'd see some ulterior motive in me, they'd say I'm some freak in a skirt, some wolf in sheep's clothing, th-they'd... think I'm some kind of… of…"
"...They'd think you're *that* kind of man. Right?"
Mashiro stops.
Ako's hand mellows out. A quiet, red sea rests in her irises. "I know the feeling. Back in middle-school, my house was the only place that felt safe. It was… hard trying to be myself before I met Rinrin."
Her thorns fade.
Her heart beats.
The light returns, having never left. Finally becoming too much for her body to bear.
She… wants to believe she's just seeing things. Over-interpreting what's right in front of her very eyes. She fails; and everything falls into place. "W-wait. Then. You're…?"
…Ako has a quiet smile. She holds Mashiro's hand. "Mashiro. Even if the rest of the world says you're not a girl, we'll always know you are. I promise."
Her walls are torn in half.
She's… not alone.
All this time, without even realizing it, she's known someone who had to spend years figuring out who they really were, just like her. Not a hypothetical, or a person she can never talk to; but a friend.
Someone who's right here with her.
One half tells her she's the stupidest person alive for everything she just said. The other half tells her to dive headfirst into that bond and never let go. "I-I'm… I'm so sorry…!"
She buries herself in Ako, who happily wraps her arms around Mashiro's back. Rinko joins, keeping her hugged on both sides, and Mashiro melts in it, accepts all of it, living in their embrace for just that moment.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" she sobs. "I-I shouldn't have assumed… I just… I…"
Ako gives her a little squeeze. So Mashiro lets herself cry without saying anything else.
…
"...Th-thanks… I…"
She gives herself some space, feeling Rinko's hands on her shoulders as she leans back. Her purple-haired friend is smiling at her, not a hint of resentment or anger in her expression despite everything Mashiro threw at her before. Ako… really is too kind.
She tries to wipe her tears. "Sniff…" Oh, god, she's a wreck. Haha… she hasn't cried for that long in a while. "I-I think I'm okay now. I feel… happy, actually," she realizes. "It's such a strange feeling. Should I even be having it?"
"Have it and everything else~," Ako says, beaming. She places a hand on the ground, and Mashiro feels like glowing flowers are sprouting around it; a canopy of whispers. "It's warm when someone else understands, isn't it?"
She nods, finding that the smile isn't hard to return. "Yeah. Thank you… thank you for everything. I don't deserve you two, honestly- wah!" There's all of 2 seconds in that sentence before Ako flies headfirst into hugging her again. Mashiro tries to keep herself upright as she feels her friend's chin rest against her shoulder with her knee awkwardly hitting against her leg, like a big plushie was just catapulted at her; she'd outright fall onto her back if Rinko wasn't there to steady her, giggling a bit in the process as she watches Mashiro fumble and try to speak. "A-Ako? Ar-"
"Thank *you.*"
"H-huh?! For what?"
Ako moves her head back, grinning at her. "What, you can't tell~?"
"N-not really…"
"Fufu. It's like she said. It's… warm when someone else understands," Rinko says softly. "So Ako must feel warm right now too, don't you think?"
Her eyes widen. So that's it. It's not that Ako is smiling in spite of everything Mashiro said. It's that, when Mashiro said it…
"Hey, no fair, Rinrin~! You read my mind before I said it myself~."
…She thinks back to that moment. That crimson fire in Ako's eyes as she held Mashiro's arm. So much like the fire in her own, but reaching out instead of backing away. It didn't retreat and torch the garden called home; instead, it crossed that strangulating chokepoint barring it off, burning through the vines throttling between them until it all came out loud and clear, life and air breathing back through the wilting ferns dotted around the path. That might've never happened, if she pushed Ako away and closed the door. She could've remained in her self-suffocation until only the parts of herself she hated most were left.
And yet she didn't. She never quite lets that happen, does she? In the first place, she could've just refused to come here. She could've told her friends she was busy, and hide herself in her room again. But she's never fully refused any of this warmth, this light. And it's starting to become clear to her, why even in her worst moments, she never goes all the way. The more time passes… the less willing she is to leave anything she loves. Even if she fears hurting it.
…Maybe that's a good thing.
"Mashiro," Rinko says, gently letting go. Mashiro turns to face her. "I can tell you're… frustrated at yourself. But please, don't be. You don't need to resent yourself. It's… easy to run from what you're scared of. We all do that sometimes. We all have those moments where we want to give up on ourselves."
"Even me!"
She smiles. "Even Ako~."
Mashiro laughs a bit, in spite of herself. "I, it's just… I feel like I should be better at this by now, you know? More open. At least, after I told Morfonica, I thought I'd be…"
"I kinda just roll with it these days. For me, being trans isn't something I can hide, y'know?" Ako sits up onto her bed, kicking her legs and smiling. It's a strangely nostalgic sight for some reason. "I don't fit the metagame or whatever, so there's no point holding myself back. Most people downtown are nice to me, at least. Iiiiiii get how it feels though," she says, looking at Mashiro. "It sucks having to just… hope you'll be accepted. That'll probably always be painful, right? So don't worry too much about it. We can look out for each other~."
"We'll always be your friends, Mashiro… no matter what," Rinko says.
She can't believe it. She's not used to this. If she knew this was how they'd respond, she never would've kept quiet in the first place. "Thank you. I-I'm sorry I hid this for so long. I should've trusted you."
Rinko shakes her head. "It… must be hard. Any time it's too scary to come out, just remember there are always places you can go back to."
She lets their kindness wrap around her. It's not pleasant, the idea she'll always be afraid of her friends before they know her secret. But she doesn't want to judge herself for it. Besides… "I guess here is one of those places now too, huh?"
"But of course! You, wielder of the bloody rose, are never barred from our domain!"
Upon making that declaration, Ako stands tall and proud. She looks towards Mashiro:
"So, my comrade in darkness; shall we continue through the garden of life? Traverse through the ultimate sleepover?"
Rinko stands up as well, before reaching out to her. The two of them are waiting for her. She still shrivels a bit; there are so many words, so many scenes, from so many months and years past, that've made her worry about things she can never quite forget.
But she's decided one thing, at least. If those memories keep her on the verge of giving herself up…
…then she won't. She'll keep indulging herself every chance she gets. In defiance, if nothing else. She won't see intentions in her head where there are none. She'll trust in herself, even when she tells herself she can't. That's the least she can do, right? "Are you… sure you're okay with having me?"
"Of course. We trust you, Mashiro," Rinko says. Mashiro takes her hand, and stands up, looking at her with as much earnestness as she can. "Besides, Kirby Air Ride… isn't as fun with just 2 players~."
"The CPU's too good at quick-spinning, that's why!" Ako huffs. "Well, Rinrin's even better, 'specially with the Wheelie Scooter. But you're definitely not~."
"...Are you saying you want me to play because it's easier to beat me?"
"Fufu~."
That does it. Mashiro would rather eat every single food she hates at once than dishonor Kirby. She rummages a controller out of the basket, and sits beside them as the TV flips on. And…
…from that point on, she's silent. Her voice is quiet for the rest of the night, leaving just a gentle smile on her face. Letting the tension leave her arms as she sits between her friends. Even as Ako and Rinko soon tuck themselves into bed, and fall fast asleep in a clumsy embrace, Mashiro is calm, lying on her back atop the futon and letting the world simply be what it is.
Before long, the moon is looking at her through the window, resting atop the midnight sky. She reaches her hand out to it. The lamps light up around her and across the street, their wisps breathing back into the broken wood. Daylight is making its way back home.
'I've been locked away. Missing you. Walking through my thorns, month after month, letting them fester and prey in my absence.
But now I've returned. And the morning is just as warm as I remembered.
I don't know why I ever left.'