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She wasn’t supposed to know, really. Not ever.
No one was, but certainly not her.
She was the little sister of one of their sister’s friends, a little younger than them, too close to their parents to safely confide in, and Mizuki just… wasn’t ready for their family to know about them yet, nor were they planning to take any chances.
Even so, it’d come slipping out one night after they’d both finished eating dinner and were playing around upstairs, revealing the truth in the form of a throwaway joke Mizuki had made with the new confidence that came after they’d slowly realized who they were and slipped into something like the comfort of having a name to put to a feeling, of finally fitting in their skin.
Mizuki had felt desperate to somehow scoop those reckless words up with their hands and shove them back into their mouth, and yet.
Looking at her, seeing the thinly veiled wonder in her eyes, hearing the barely breathed murmur of “Not the same, but—like me,” so faint that they would’ve thought they’d imagined it had they not been standing so close to her, they couldn’t quite bring themself to regret telling her.
Not when she clearly took it positively, saw them positively, seemed so hopeful when she’d asked them, after, in a tiny, fragile voice, “That’s allowed?” like she’d already known the answer but just hadn’t been ready to hear it, not when she seemed to be—to be so much like them.
—
“What’s something you’ve never told anyone else?”
—
They’re older now.
They’re older, but they’re still kids, still classmates, just in middle school now, still friends-who-aren’t-really-friends who only know each other because their siblings do (but really, Mizuki thinks, that’s about the same, isn’t it?), and Mizuki still has no idea how they should be when they’re around her.
“Well, I figured that my old label didn’t fit me as well as I’d thought,” Mizuki says haltingly, trying to find the words.
She looks up from her computer.
“But… that’s not what you told me you were.”
“Yeah, but. It's been a while since first I told you, and I—I’ve been thinking a bit more, and I realized this fit me a lot better.”
She huffs a laugh and turns back to her screen, mouse clicking rhythmically to the bubbly music playing softly. “You’re not that, though. You’re—Mizuki, that’s not what you said you were.”
Mizuki smiles wanly, suddenly wishing they hadn’t said anything in the first place. “Ah... nevermind, haha. You're right. Forget about it. Anyway, you said there was a new event..?”
Their stomach untwists as she doesn’t ask any further and launches into an enthusiastic explanation of her game’s lore.
(Mizuki’s nervously wringing their hands. Their mouth is dry.
“Actually, I think... I was thinking, and I… I’m…”)
It doesn’t matter anymore.
—
(She grins. “Because I trust you.”
Mizuki’s eyes widen, surprised.
“What are you looking at me like that for? We’ve been family friends for so long, we might as well leave out the 'friends' part at this point and just say family.”)
All the years they’ve known each other, all the memories they’ve made, the relationship they’ve built.
Mizuki’s phone pings once with a message from their sister, and suddenly, all of it’s crumbling down.
(“You’re the only person I can tell this to, Mizuki. The only person I would ever tell this to. My unofficial sibling.” She smiles, a tiny little thing, and Mizuki’s chest is strangely warm hearing that last word.)
—
elder
[7:14] Hi Mizuki! I was talking to my friend, and she mentioned that her and a few of our friends know about your identity. She said they heard it from her little sister, and I just wanted to make sure you knew and had given her the okay to share that with them all, because I know that’s really personal and if that wasn’t the case, then that’s absolutely not okay.
grasshopper
[7:14] hi hi
[7:16] i,, wasn’t aware she’d told anyone, nor had i said it was alright to.
[7:17] thanks for letting me know. i appreciate you checking with me. i know you're pretty busy these days.
elder
[7:17] Of course.
[7:18] That’s an awful position to be put in, and I’m really sorry that you have to be in it. My friend won’t say anything. Let me know if you ever need anything, Mizuki. I’ll always have time for you.
grasshopper
[7:18] thank you.
[7:20] think i’m gonna go to class now, haha
[7:20] bye sis :))
elder
[7:21] Bye, Zuki.
Mizuki stands on the bottom step of the stairs leading to their homeroom at 7:42am, wondering if they shouldn’t just go home altogether.
Their hands clench into fists by their sides. They can feel their fingernails digging into their palms.
Their phone is burning a hole through the pocket of their cardigan.
They step into the classroom.
—
“Never,” she says, meeting their eyes surely, confidently. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Mizuki has never believed anyone as much as they believe her.
—
They’re looking straight at her, watching the way she smiles and laughs so easily with her other friends, the way none of it falters in the slightest when she flicks her gaze over to them. The way it looks like there’s nothing weighing her down. The way she carries on like there’s nothing wrong, like she didn’t do anything, like she didn’t say anything, like none of what their sister told them actually happened.
Like none of it was real.
Was it real?
They’re staring at her, hands at their sides, a cold sort of numbness spreading through their chest.
Then she’s turning slightly to face them, lips forming around words that tug the corner of her mouth upwards. A matching smile finds itself on their face.
It’s so easy to smile, to laugh and grin and pretend that it’s okay, to forget all of it, forget that they’re slowly choking with unspoken questions. It’s so easy to just put it out of mind and stop thinking entirely. It’s not real, not right now. It doesn’t matter right now.
(Mizuki feels like a coward for running away from the truth, even for a moment. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts it hurtsithurtsithurtsithurts—)
—
The rest of the day goes by far more easily than they’d thought it would.
It only makes them feel worse.
—
I want to hate you.
They’re walking home from school, passing by an empty playground.
I really, really do. Is that wrong?
They kick a stray pebble along as they walk, punctuating every word with another jab of their foot.
If they asked her about it, what would she do?
Would she laugh it off? Say she did nothing of the sort? Say nothing at all?
Would she look them in the eyes and tell them that it was alright because the only people who knew were all their shared friends, anyway?
Because it wouldn’t be, Mizuki thinks. The others, they weren’t. All of them were friends with her before they were friends with Mizuki, and even then, they were only ever really her friends.
I want to hate you. I should hate you. I should, so why..? Why don’t I?
The pebble careens to the left and lands in the tall grass by the playground’s border. Mizuki stops and stares at where it flew for a moment, feeling oddly lost.
Here, with the wind weaving gently through the grass, the clouds gathering to cover them from the sun, not a soul in sight, finally with the space to stop and breathe, the exhaustion that had been building in their body this whole time hits them. Mizuki's so tired.
No one’s here, they think. There’s no one to judge me if I just… rest here for a moment.
Only for a moment, they think, and make their way over to the swingset.
—
Maybe, Mizuki thinks, swinging gently back and forth, maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe they’d misunderstood their sister’s words, or they’d misremembered how serious it was. Maybe it wasn’t what they thought and they’d twisted it all out of proportion. Maybe it was all in their head.
Maybe they were just overreacting, just jumping to conclusions and assuming like they always did.
They were just being sensitive, being overly dramatic, reading between the lines and seeing words that didn’t exist, immediately thinking the worst.
Mizuki lets their feet drag through the woodchips to pull them to a stop as they take out their phone.
They hadn’t missed anything, no.
Their sister was never one for making promises she couldn’t keep or saying things that weren’t absolutely true.
She'd only been able to say that her best friend wouldn’t say anything, hadn’t told them the rest of her friends wouldn’t tell other people as well.
There were only two other people aside from Mizuki themself who knew their secret, and the only person who could’ve told the others anything sat two desks ahead of them.
What exactly did you say?
Who else did you tell?
Why, Mizuki feels clawing its way to their tongue.
They dig their feet into the ground and try not to cry. The motion forms small piles of woodchips under them.
It’s over now, isn’t it? I’m over. If everyone finds out, then I'm… I'm…
Mizuki presses their palms to their eyes. How did everything get so out of control?
They try to reassure themself. Maybe she only told her sister and her sister’s friends because she knew them. Maybe it was in passing, in reference.
She didn’t tell anyone else, just those few.
That's what happened, right?
No one else will know. That's the truth.
So why can’t I make myself believe it?
In the park, Mizuki sits alone on the swings with their face buried in their hands, still and unmoving as the sky turns a dull blue.
—
Eventually, Mizuki pushes themself to their prickling feet, ignoring the way the night chill has started to bite at their exposed face and legs.
The walk home isn’t too long.
Mizuki doesn’t remember much of it, only faint snapshots here and there of pulling their backpack on, of shuffling over cracks in the sidewalk, of blinking and finding themself in bed.
—
The next day, everything passes by normally. There’s no sign at all that anything's even slightly off, that anything’s happened. That any of it was real.
Mizuki is able to put it out of their mind for the most part, is able to tentatively convince themself that it’s fine. Everything’s fine.
Sure, it’s not ideal, not what they would’ve chosen for themself, their sister’s friends knowing, but it stopped there. It ended with them.
Everything is fine.
—
At lunch, she leans over and shows Mizuki a video of a white kitty on her phone. They spend their break cooing over the tiny ball of fluff.
Everything is fine.
Another day goes by.
—
Then another.
—
And another.
—
It's been over a week.
Everything is fine. They know it is.
Mizuki wants to laugh. It almost feels like the truth.
—
They aren't sure exactly how long it’s been, but they’re just about ready to put the whole thing behind them completely, to put it out of mind and keep it there.
The last few weeks had been uneventful, routine. Honestly, if it weren’t for their sister’s name acting as a reminder every time they scrolled through their messages and saw it near the top, they wouldn’t have even remembered that there was anything to remember.
It's a study hall right now, although most of the students just use it as a free period. Mizuki’s no exception. The moment they finish this overdue worksheet, they’re going to watch the latest episode of their favorite magical girl anime. (It wouldn’t have been this late if they hadn’t been watching the previous episodes instead of actually completing it, but Mizuki considers their grade a necessary sacrifice.)
They’ve plugged in their earbuds to their phone in advance, eager to cut down the time not spent on watching the season finale. Even if they’re not listening to anything, Mizuki’s found that just having their earbuds in acts as a surprisingly effective conversation deterrent.
A few feet away, a group of their classmates are talking. They’re speaking in hushed whispers, and although Mizuki can make out a few words here and there, they don’t really care to pay any attention to them. Or, rather, normally wouldn’t care to.
But every so often, out of the corner of their eye, they can see several pairs of eyes flicking toward them.
And Mizuki wouldn’t think too much of it, would just try to brush it off and keep chipping away at their math problems, except—the eyes just keep looking at them.
Mizuki grips their pencil tighter, something undeniably nervous beginning to bubble in their stomach. They’re not talking about me. They’re not even looking at me, just something behind me. Even if they were talking about me, it’s nothing to worry about. It’s nothing.
It’s nothing.
It’s—
“—iyama Mizuki is a—really?”
One of their classmates nods. “Yeah, really. honestly, I kind of figured, but I was talking to—she confirmed it.”
Mizuki freezes, their pencil jolting to a stop midword.
A girl laughs disbelievingly. “Akiyama's one of those people? God, what a freak.”
The word hangs in the room. The air in their lungs suddenly seems too thin.
“Not so loud,” someone whispers, “—literally sitting right there.”
“It’s not like—can hear us,” another person’s saying, “—playing music.”
Freak, Mizuki thinks faintly. Their heart feels like it’s slamming in their chest in a frantic waltz. They know. They know.
Mizuki wants to ask how, wants to know how they found out.
(A part of them already knows. They want to be wrong, all the same.)
There’s a loud buzzing in their head.
The students’ conversation continues faintly in the background as they turn back to their paper, but Mizuki doesn’t care. Can’t care. Can’t focus enough to listen to anything else, not when right now, all they can hear is their blood rushing through their ears.
(They need to leave. They need to get out of here. Right now, they need to go. They need to be somewhere else, anywhere else, anywhere but here, they don’t want to be here anymore, can’t be here—)
Mizuki pretends that they can’t feel themself falling apart and mechanically finishes the problem they were on, waiting until the eyes have started to look elsewhere before they shove their things into their bag and walk out of the room.
They make it halfway down the hall before running into her as she comes back from the bathroom.
She catches them by the sleeve, tilting her head curiously.
“Where are you going?”
Her voice is confused, filled with what Mizuki would’ve usually interpreted as concern, if the others’ words weren’t still ringing, ringing, ringing in their ears.
“One of those people.”
“Freak.”
You told them, they think, like a puzzle piece sliding into place, and it takes everything in them not to yank their arm back, to put on a sheepish smile instead and ignore the heat building behind their eyes.
“Ah, I forgot I was supposed to be in the library for tutoring right now.” The lie flows easily from their tongue. They hate how natural it feels, but they also don’t. They don’t know what they feel, really. There’s only the overwhelming need to get away.
She laughs lightly. “Classic Mizuki. Alright, I'll catch you later, then.”
“Later.” Mizuki lifts a hand in goodbye as they walk through the hall, legs propelled by an unknown momentum.
When they know she can’t see them anymore, they start to run. Mizuki runs and runs and runs until they can’t anymore, until they can’t ignore the ache in their legs, until they’re dropping their bag on woodchips and all but collapsing onto a familiar green swing.
—
Mizuki stares at the sky as they sit on the swing. Watches the clouds pass by. Tries not to think, not to feel.
It doesn’t work.
They can try all they like to distract themself, but their thoughts just cycle back to the same moment.
They don’t understand.
How… how could she laugh like that? Like everything’s alright?
Like it really didn’t happen at all.
But it did. It did happen, and the only reason she can look at them without a shred of guilt is because to her, it didn’t. It wasn’t big enough to register as something of note, as something worth remembering. It didn’t mean anything to her.
Did they mean anything to her?
Mizuki swallows. All the times you called us siblings and best friends—I was only ever a fool to you, huh?
They’re still for a moment.
Still, I really... I thought we were friends.
Even in their head, it's soft, quiet.
For some reason, the admission hurts the most.
—
Their phone pings.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
The buzzing in their ears won’t go away.
Mizuki lets the messages pile up.
They want to go higher, higher until the sky is all they can see.
Until the darkening blue swallows them whole. Until they're so tiny, they might as well be nothing at all.
Their phone keeps pinging.
It doesn’t mean anything.
—
Mizuki stares at her, the cold void that had long made its home in their chest filling with something new, something fragile, warm.
“I trust you, too.”
—
What a joke.
Mizuki bows their head, bangs falling into their eyes as their face darkens. Their hands tighten into white-knuckled fists around the swingset's chains.
“I should've known better, huh.” A hot, bitter anger pulses in their veins and tinges their words red. Mizuki’s not sure what will be left of them once the anger bleeds out.
Maybe it’s already starting to, they think, feeling the heat beginning to ebb away, leaving behind a familiar emptiness.
They laugh, but it comes out sounding more like a strangled sob. “I should’ve known better.”
Known better than to tell you.
Known better than to trust you.
They laugh again, a short bark, and lift their head, smiling mirthlessly at the sky with burning eyes.
Ah… I'm pathetic, aren’t I?
Nothing's changed. They don't know why they ever expected it to.
They really are a fool.
Mizuki sits there for a while, listening to the clink-clink of the swing chains rocking in the wind, just quietly breathing into the night.
Eventually, when they begin to feel like a person again, they open their phone, swiping blankly through the flurry of missed notifications.
[05:29] cram session already started, where are u lol
[05:30] mizukiiiii
[05:30] are you srsly skipping lmao
[05:30] mannn
[05:31] should’ve told me u were planning to, take me with u next time TT
They pause just before they clear the last one. It's a message from Shiraishi, sent not too long ago.
They open it.
[7:01] [IMG_10884.jpg]
[7:01] hii! it’s an! i noticed you weren’t here today, figured you left early or smth,
so here are my notes from today’s session^^
i know we haven’t gotten to talk much so we don’t know each other very well, but if you ever need an explanation on any of the topics or just want someone to talk to, i’m here for you
hope you’re doing alright!
Their fingers hover over the keyboard for a long moment.
Shiraishi, no, An, is worried for them, Mizuki thinks distantly.
i’m here for you, the message reads.
An wants to get to know them.
(She shouldn’t.)
The two of them haven’t talked often, but she seems nice enough.
Can’t I just... let myself have this?
Mizuki wants… Mizuki wants to reply. Wants to take the fall, to let themself break into pieces and trust that they’ll be caught.
Trust that An means it, trust that she actually cares.
An remembered them.
An wants to get to know them.
(Wants… to be friends?)
No, that’s not it.
An’s just being a nice classmate.
They were doing it again, weren't they? Always assuming, always jumping in far too fast.
Always making a fuss out of little things, always seeing things that were never there.
Mizuki is tired of thinking.
Is just tired, really.
Nothing feels real.
For a moment, Mizuki just breathes. Doesn’t think, doesn’t speak.
Then they’re shutting off their phone, watching the too-bright light fade to nothing.
The buzzing finally quiets.
The park is completely silent, aside from the sound of the occasional car whooshing by.
It’s better this way.
Even so, they sort of hate themself for hoping.
For wanting to reply.
For wishing that maybe this time, it’d be different. That it’d last.
That it’d be real.
They know better.
In the end, Akiyama Mizuki has only ever been alone.