Mizuki was 5 when their class held a stage show. They were picked to be on stage, and it was the first time they got to wear a dress. For the first time, something felt right. But they didn't realize it, couldn't vocalize it. Their parents laughed and squeed and took pictures, cooing over how cute their child was. Their sister smiled happily at them. They grinned back.
It was the last time they were allowed to wear a dress.
When Mizuki was 12, they were a mess. Their parents were doting, their sister loving. But something was missing. Something intangible, something they couldn't quite put into words. They're not even sure if there were words to describe it.
When they're sad, angry, or just bored and zoned out, they think about that one moment back in kindergarten. When they got to wear a dress. Got to stand on stage, in front of so many people, in this fluffy dress that sparkled like diamonds. Perhaps it was never sparkly, or even a cute dress. In their memories, it sparkled and twirled perfectly.
One day, after a particularly nasty fall (there were a lot of tears), Mizuki was ushered into their sister's room. It was full of plushies and soft clothes, lined with soft pastel walls. For some reason, Mizuki was happiest there. Their parents mused that it was probably because they got to be with their beloved sister.
"There's a fabric sale, and I need to go grab some before they run out. Can you be good and stay in my room until I'm back?"
They nodded. Their sister left like a whirlwind, the door slightly ajar. They were alone in their sister's room.
For some, it might come as an awakening of sorts, a result of some kind of stimulus or event that happened in their life. For Mizuki, it wasn't a matter of when, but where.
By the time their sister came back, a new roll of fabric in her arms for the next dress, Mizuki has managed to put on a skirt lying on the floor backward. They freeze when their sister pushed on the door. They weren't quite sure why, but it feels like they have been caught in the act. Caught doing something they weren't supposed to, like hugging the pretty girls at school or punching boys when they were mean.
Their sister smiled at them.
"You're wearing that backward. Come here, let me fix it up."
A few pins here and there, and the skirt fits. Mizuki stands in front of the mirror. It felt right, somehow. Like they have always wanted this.
And they hugged their sister tightly, tears and snot and all their love and gratitude pouring on their sister's blouse. Their sister hugged back just as tightly.
----
The world, as it turned out, isn't as kind as their sister, or their parents. The kids at school didn't want to play with them anymore. Adults whispered into each other's ears as they walked by, wearing the newest dress their sister made for them. More than once, someone doodled on their desk, or splashed water on them, or hit them with a volleyball from behind when they weren't noticing.
And then there were the names used to call them as well. New words, words that made their sister hug them tight, as if willing the words to forever go away, for them to have never been heard by Mizuki.
But it was too late. Like a genie that escaped the lamp, it was too late to go back. Mizuki understood that it was part of them now, as unalienable and inseparable as the fact that they have two eyes, two legs, and two arms. It made them happy, and they kept coming back for more dresses and skirts and blouses and cardigans, like a moth to a flame. It felt right, too right to ignore, too right to push aside all the negativity strangers throw at them.
----
Mizuki was 16 when they found Nightcord. And then Ena. Then Yuki and K. In a different lifetime, maybe finding and keeping friends would have been easier. But for them, it seems like finding friends online was the best course of action. On Nightcord, it didn't matter what you looked like, or what bits you had. All that mattered was you, in your purest essence.
Without their notice, the world has begun to open up, little by little. It was just going to be another friend group, they'd tell themself. Once the secret is out, they'd have to run, just like the hundred other friends they've had before. No one aside from their family and that weird boy on the rooftop has ever stayed, after all.
So they smiled and laughed and joked with the group, and time passes. They never left.
----
Ena was temperamental but kinder than anyone else. She may bicker and complain loudly, but she also makes sure everyone gets a say when it comes to their nightly meetings, makes sure Kanade is at least eating something, makes sure Mafuyu knows that she isn't giving up on her - not now, not ever, and makes sure to yell at Mizuki for teasing her. Art may not have been kind to her, but she persists on, carrying all the yelling and crying and frustration with her, the baggage on her back growing as she trods forward.
Once, Mizuki asked her why she never gave up on art. How does she do it? How can she keep pushing on, meeting failure after failure after failure, how can she find the drive to engage in what seemingly is a sisyphean task?
"Because it isn't up to someone else to give up on it. It's all up to me. And I won't be able to forgive myself if I ever give up." She laughs, half bitterly and half genuinely.
Mizuki didn't say much after that for the rest of that night.
Mizuki has given up on ever telling anyone about themself. Given up on baring their most sensitive, pure self to people. Better to hide behind a facade of smiles and clothes and acrylic nails painstakingly put together. For what is the point? Anyone who has seen it, anyone who has been privy to the secret, has always scoffed and shamed and distanced themself away from them. If that is the case, they reasoned, I should never tell anyone about it again.
They listen to the three of them bicker and chatter about their next MV, a ghost of a smile on their lips. How could they ever ask for anything more than this? Their friends may deserve the world and some, but this is already so much, too much for Mizuki to ask for. To have people happy and chatting and talking to them like this. They want it to go on forever.
And so Mizuki buries their secret inside them.
-Bury it deep within me. Take this secret to the grave, never allowing it to see the light of day again. Even if Ena has said that she will wait forever until Mizuki is ready. Mizuki didn't want to ever be ready. They wanted to hold onto it, hold it so tight that their delicate wrist shook, their fingers bloodied, their nails broken, and then some more. For that is how much they treasured their friendship. With Enanan, with Yuki, with K.
----
Mizuki was 18 when the circle decided to throw them a surprise in person birthday party. Mizuki suspected something has been up for a while, with all the not-so-subtle "when are you free on this day that happens to be your birthday" questions Enanan has been asking them recently, but everyone was otherwise tight-lipped about the matter.
They came home to their circle sitting in the living room chattering away, a giant pastel pink birthday cake on the dining table. They were all smiles and laughter - of course, how could they not be? It was their role to be the happy-go-lucky one in this group of depressed idiots friends, and play that role they will. This is already so much happiness, almost too much more than they deserve in this one lifetime, so much they don't know how they can ever repay-
"If I die right now, I think I will be happy." They grin in between mouthfuls of cake. Ena looks positively affronted and slapped them on the shoulder, hard. More laughter followed.
But they meant it. If they die now, they will die content. Ah, I've lived a good life and all that. And it is all thanks to these three sitting in front of them. How can one ever ask for more?
Later that night, Mizuki excused themself to the bathroom. Instead, they went to the balcony, in their sister's now abandoned room. The air is cold and the wind bites at them, but Mizuki didn't mind. If they were to fall to their death right now, all would be okay. Okay, maybe not right in front of their house, that would be a mess. And they wouldn't want the others to see it. Maybe they should go far, far away, like how cats do when they reach their time. Run far away, find somewhere unreachable and just disappear quietly. So that Ena and Mafuyu and Kanade can continue on and-
"Can I join?"
Mizuki turned around. Ena is gingerly peeking her head through the bedroom door. Of course, it has to be Ena. Out of everyone, she has always been the one to find them first, the one to complain the loudest but always paying attention to them the most, as if they're the most unruly cat to have ever graced her presence. They tilted their head in a smile, and then turned back towards the landscape.
It's late, and the city shimmers like a diamond shining in the dark with its one million faceted cuts. Simultaneously ever changing and never changing. Somewhere, a train horn sounds. Mizuki idly wonder how much everyone's life would be disrupted if they were to disappear. Would it matter at all? Or would it be like that train horn, temporary and but a blip in their lives?
...Would Ena cry?
Ena folded her hands on the balcony top. They stood like that, together and quiet, for a while, just watching the city.
"Hey, Enanan." They bump her with their shoulders softly.
"What is it?" Ena asks. She leans into their touch. It's warm.
"Do you remember that secret we talked about?" Mizuki starts. Run away, run away, disengage, brain-Mizuki shrieks at them. We can't let her know! We can't let them know!
Ena blinks. "Of course. How could I forget? I told you I'll wait forever if I have to."
They shift guiltily. "Would you be mad if I tell you that I never planned on telling you?"
It's nice to hear Ena laugh, albeit softly, albeit lasting only for a second. "I mean..." she starts. "I kinda expected it to be something like that. And I still meant it. I'll wait forever next to you." She looks at them, eyes gentle and fond.
...Stop that. Don't look at me with those eyes. It'll come out. It'll all come spilling out.
There's still time, brain-Mizuki whispers. A desperate prayer unto oneself. You can still stop. Tell her we're grateful. Tease her. You can still steer away. Didn't we agree on this? Agreed that it will never again be said aloud? Keep the status quo, and we'll be fine!
Ena's hand brushes their rigid and sweaty palm. "I meant it, Mizuki. Don't force yourself." She smiles at them. "You look like a wet cat right now, and I kinda like it more when you're teasing me instead of this."
Stop it. Don't smile at me. I don't deserve this, I don't deserve you, I don't deserve any of you. Half of them chant fearfully. Maybe I need to run away. Run far, far, far away never to be heard or seen of again, disappear into the night-
"I wasn't born like this."
It never hurts as bad as you expected it to. Or maybe, not initially?
Mizuki inhales shakily, and continues on when Ena stays quiet, simply looking into the distance. Mizuki internally thanks her. Somehow, it's easier to do this when they're not looking at you.
Like a dam, it all came pouring out, one word after another. Mizuki didn't care if they were gibberish to Ena, they know she was listening attentively to everything. It became harder and harder to stop. They tried, several times, but Ena's gentle and firm hand squeezes spurred them on - since when were they holding hands?
Mizuki doesn't know if it gets easier. But it isn't getting harder. They keep talking to Ena, a one way dump of information and feelings and all their scarred insides that they have long since hidden away, labeled to never show them to anyone again. And now it's all coming spilling out, a flow that has been held back for almost a decade, gently falling through the night air like flakes in a snowglass.
Mizuki talked. And talked. And talked.
Finally, they stopped.
They stood together like that on the balcony, side by side, overlooking the city for a while.
Another hand squeeze. Mizuki idly wonders if this is the last act of kindness they'll ever get from Ena, one last grace of warmth offered to the criminal before execution. They look at her, their face full of a tired, fake smile.
Something warm and soft touched their forehead. Mizuki blinks. Ena is pointedly looking away, her face flushed the prettiest red they have ever seen.
"Wh-" they smartly begin, and then stop. For all the cheer and tease they've built up over their entire life, nothing came out this time.
"I kept thinking about it, but I don't know what to say." Ena says, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. "I have a million things I want to say to you and none of them feel right."
Mizuki blinks again. It's getting harder and harder to keep the tears inside. They too, have begun trying to escape their body, like the secret that now hung in the air between the two of them.
Ena squeezes their hands, for the umpteenth time that night. "But I'm not going anywhere."
A beat.
Then two.
"It doesn't change how I see you, Amia." She whispers, still pointedly looking anywhere but Mizuki's face. "You're still the Amia I know." She blinks, and looks at them. "Ah, but....do you want us to refer to you as something else now? A different name? How about pronouns?"
Ah, ah. Now the tears too are falling. Mizuki briefly wonders if they too, shine and sparkle like the night city that watches over them as they threw their arms around Ena, lay their head over her shoulder, and bawl. It isn't the quiet, muffled cry they have as they snuggle their plushie, nights after confessing the very same secret to people who are nothing any more but a shadow in their memory. It isn't the fake cry they'd have as they watch a sad movie with the group. It was something more primal, more ugly, more breathless and heart aching, like all those years ago, like the first time their parents gently told them that they shouldn't wear clothes like this if they don't want people to look at them weirdly and judge them. Mizuki was shaking and crying and gasping for air, their hands tingled from the lack of oxygen, from the weight that is finally no longer suffocating them.
And they know that if they stood there for an eternity, Ena would have gladly stood there with them, grouchiness and complaints and all the secret kindness and care that Ena has inside her. She would have stood there, arms around them, under that shimmering night sky for as long as they needed.
----
Mizuki was 18 years and an hour old as they sat everyone down at their dining table and told them their secret for the second time that night, eyes puffy and swollen. And they cried again, as Kanade and Ena hugs them, as Mafuyu holds their hand and smiled - the most genuine smile they've ever seen from her, they note, or as genuine as Mafuyu can make it and as clear as their tears can let them see anyway. Mafuyu hands them a simple, double looped bracelet with four square stones. Each of the group's initials is carved on them, the same way they have carved themselves into Mizuki's broken and patched heart. Kanade hands them a CD. A quiet and gentle song that sings of friendship, quiet and firm. Ena passes them a canvas.
It was Mizuki as Ena sees them. Akiyama Mizuki, all smiles and pink hair and acrylic nails. Amia, all toothy grin and teasing ready to leave their tongue sticking out. Mizuki, eyes gentle and fond and so loving, and so deserving of love, of affection and care from all three of their girlfriends. And as they sat there with all the important people in their life, smiles and snot and tears, they thought to themself, maybe this time, they will stick around for a bit longer. Just a while longer.
They deserve it, after all.