My Childhood Friend (♂) Turned Into A Girl (And Why Wasn’t It Me?!)

Whatever force-field of stupid Fujimura gives off seems to linger even after he’s gone.

That’s the only explanation for the daze I’m in. For how long I’ve been rooted to this same spot.

Slowly but surely, though, my bullshit brain starts working again.

Soon it’s working enough to realize that the trees I’ve been staring at are in fact opaque.

Then, enough to recognize that even if I could see through them, there’s probably nothing—and no one—left behind them but strangers.

And lastly, enough to start asking questions.

Questions like “What the fuck just happened?” and “Seriously, what the actual fuck just happened?”

Did him and his little friend really just almost murder me?

And what was with that afterwards? Him avoiding my questions and then… then…

Fuck.

It’s no wonder my heart won’t stop beating a mile a minute after someone just sneaks up on me like that.

Yeah, that’s it. I’m startled—that’s what this is.

Scratch that. I’m startled and pissed.

Like, did he really just play dumb the whole fucking time?

And then yell ‘sorry’ as he fucking fled?

‘Sorry’? Sorry for what, you abandoning little coward?

There’s like a dozen things it could be, and if I think through each one individually, I’m gonna have a fucking heart attack.

I start pacing.

Almost get hit by a bike.

Almost have another fucking heart attack.

Start pacing on the grass.

Then stop short.

Of course—why didn’t I think of this sooner?

I have like a million questions, and trying to tackle them alone is getting me nowhere. Each time I think I have an answer, I just find three more questions, like some kind of fucked-up hydra that just keeps sprouting more of him.

So maybe trying to tackle them alone isn’t the answer.

I fish my phone out of my pocket, pull up my LINE conversation with Hina-chan, and tap the voice call button.

The line is already ringing by the time I put the phone up to my ear.

Come ooon. Come ooon—pick up!

It keeps ringing.

…And ringing.

I start pacing again.

I’m about to hang up when—

“Hi!”

Hina-chan picks up in the nick of time, and hello, near-heart attack #3. Did someone write my name in a fucking death note or something?!

I take a moment to catch my breathing, then shake my head clear and realize I’m smiling.

It’s her!

And she sounds… normal.

Happy.

Like when we’d just started dating and we’d make surprise calls to each other just to hear the other smile.

Like the last few weeks never happened.

“…Toji?”

Shit. I haven’t been talking.

“Hey!” I say, a little breathless. “I… Sorry, it sounds like there’s some background noise. Is now a bad time?”

“Just out with the girls,” she says. “I can talk for a couple minutes, though—what’s up?”

“Great,” I say by way of preamble, then stumble over my words, suddenly hesitant to pop the bubble I’ve somehow found myself in.

I can’t just stand here in silence, either, though, so the bubble will pop either way. That’s… kind of depressing.

“…Toji?!”

“Sorry! Hi. It’s me.”

“I know,” she teases. “I can see your name when you call.” She laughs into the phone and I feel something squeeze in my chest. “So? What’s up?”

I open my mouth.

You’ll never guess who I ran into. That’s the opening I had planned to use.

Except… it sticks in my throat.

I can already hear the rest of the conversation after that.

Fujimura. Questions. Suspicion.

I can’t do it.

I can’t just… pop the bubble myself.

I swallow the words back down, and plaster on a smile.

“Just… wanted to hear your voice, I guess.”

“Oh,” she chirps. “Just like old times, huh?”

“Exactly.”

My chest squeezes again. Ow.

“Well, I’m glad you called,” she says. “I should let you go, though, okay?”

“Of course,” I say. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“For sure! Byyye!” she says, and I can almost imagine her face. The cute little wave she would do if this were in person.

All the more reason to end the call before I can change my mind.

I hang up the phone, and for a moment I just… stare at it. Lost in another daze.

Fuck.

I fucking hate this.

-----

Nothing’s working.

I run home? No runner’s high.

I hole up in my quiet bedroom? My brain is still deafening.

I curl up under my warm kotatsu? No blanket can warm my soul.

Fuuuuck.

Fujimura and Hina.

Hina and Fujimura.

I should text one of them.

However—and here’s the kicker—I reeeeeally don’t wantto text either of them.

Let’s consider my options, shall we?

If I texted Fujimura, I could give him a piece of my fucking mind. Kick down his proverbial door and demand some fucking answers.

But: he had a chance to answer at the park, right? And he didn’t.

Plus, even before then, I’ve been thinking about this very thing ever since he started ignoring me.

And every time I come to the same conclusion.

He’s been avoiding me.

He’s the one fucking with my relationship.

Why should I be the one to text him?

He can text me! He has my info.

And speakingof fucking with my relationship, I don’t really want to text Hina-chan either, which hurts.

If I did text her, then maybe we could still figure some of this out. Maybe we’d have another pleasant conversation like we had at the park. If we’re really lucky, then maybe we could even get our relationship back on the right track.

…

LOL.

Get real, Sakuragi.

The park was a fluke, and you fucking know it.

Yes, things have been a little better lately. But that’s only because we’ve been avoiding the topic of Fujimura like a relationship black hole.

So calling her to talk specifically about something that happened with Fujimura?

Yeah. That’s what I thought.

Which is just, like, fucking fantastic, right?

Shouldn’t I be able to tell my own girlfriend things that happen to me? Isn’t that what real boyfriends do?

If it were anyone else, she and I could just laugh it off in five seconds and go about our day, probably holding hands and making out and eating parfaits together.

It’s just because it’s him that any of this is an issue.

So no, I’m not going to message either of them.

It’s not a great conclusion.

I’m not happy about it.

But it’s the conclusion.

At least for a whole five minutes until the whoooole cycle starts aaaaaallover again.

Fuck.

Why is it that anytime Fujimura is involved with anything nowadays, I’m the one slapped with the giant fucking moral dilemma?

Fight or secret? Fight or secret? Fight or secret?

It’s no wonder my brain feels like it’s about to explode like a fucking hornet.

All I can do is hide under the blanket and hope that the world will disappear for a while.

-----

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

My brain is finally quieting down a bit as I lie dozing on the floor, legs warm and cozy under the kotatsu.

Then there’s a tap on my doorframe and my mom’s muffled voice intrudes and I simply cannot overstate how much I do not want to talk to people right now.

“Toji?” Mom says through the door. “Are you… decent?”

I roll my eyes. That was one time.

“Come in!” I call through a yawn, then curse internally as I push myself into a more socially-appropriate seated position.

The door slides open and Mom shuffles in, tap-tap-tapping along with her cane.

Aaand in her other hand she’s holding the party invitation.

Fuck.

“Hey,” she says. “Do you know how long Miyako-san wants us at the party? The card gives start and end times, but they’re pretty far apart, so I wasn’t sure if people were meant to stay the whole time or if it’s more of an open-house thing.”

“Oh, um, I’m not really sure if I’m going,” I say. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Her face scrunches in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you go? The Fujimuras have been like a second family to you over the years.”

An image of my dad flashes into my head, and I stifle a little scoff.

Just not quickly enough, apparently.

Mom opens her mouth to speak, but I cut her off.

“I’m not sure about ‘a second family’,” I say, “but Auntie has definitely been nice to me over the years. The rest of them are more… complicated.”

I wait for her to get firm, maybe to defend the family friends’ honor.

But instead, she kind of grins a little bit.

“‘Auntie’, huh?”

I think for a moment, rewind the conversation back to what I said.

Then heat creeps into my face.

“She told me to call her that,” I mutter.

“Mhmm.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Yeah, and that’s worse!”

Her smile gets worse.

Then dims a little.

“And… what about Fujimura-kun?” she asks. “Is he ‘complicated’?”

I scoff again.

“He is the definition of complicated,” I huff. “But I don’t really want to talk about that.”

I flop back onto the floor. Hopefully that’ll put an end to the—

Nope. She steps into my line of sight.

“Is this about what happened at the beginning of the school year?”

“No! …Yes? Not just about that. It’s just…”

“Complicated?”

“…Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. Her voice is soft, a little coaxing. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories or anything. I guess I just… thought you two would have made up by now.”

I scoff yet again. I’m in a scoffing sort of mood.

“Yeah, well, we haven’t,” I snap.

My jaw clenches.

I turn away from her face. It’s too much.

“…Toji.”

I can feel Mom’s eyes boring into me, but I can’t bring myself to meet them.

“Toji,” she tries again. “Can you look at me, please?”

Fuuuuccckkk.

I turn back.

Meet her eyes.

“You didn’t happen to run into Fujimura-kun today, did you?”

The…

But…

The fuck?

Is she fucking psychic?

My face gives me away before I can even say anything, and Mom nods.

“Thought so,” she says, then shifts on her cane. “Okay. I would like to know the whole story, but I need to sit down if we’re going to have a full conversation about it. Can we move to the couch, and you can tell me what’s going on?”

“…Do I have a choice?”

She thinks for a minute. Not encouraging, but not exactly a ‘no’, either.

“We have a choice,” she says finally. “About whether or not to attend Miyako’s birthday. And it sounds like you have thoughts on that subject, so I’d like to hear what they are. …Please?”

I don’t want to go.

I almost say it.

I open my mouth to say it.

But…

I wasn’t lying. Auntie has been kind to me over the years. Her husband is trash, and her kids are little monsters, butshe’s the one with the birthday. She’s the one who’ll be disappointed if I don’t go.

So…

Fuck.

“Fine,” I mutter, then grunt as I climb to my feet. “Let’s get it over with.”

Will this day never end?

-----

I beat her to the sofa—obviously—and settle into my traditional seat: far left, furthest from the side table with the lamp on it.

The same seat where Hina-chan sat for our big fight last week, my brain reminds me unnecessarily.

I try to put it out of my mind, but it’s too late. All the thoughts and feelings of the day are suddenly front and center again, and I want nothing more than to just hide back in my room.

Not that I actually think it would help. I had temporarily forgotten about the party, and now that I’ve remembered? It’s just one more thing to worry about.

‘Let’s get this over with’ indeed.

Mom tap-tap-taps over to the sofa herself and sets the invitation between us like it’s fucking Plaintiff’s Exhibit #1, then she lowers herself slowly down with the cane.

Angles herself towards me.

Makes herself comfortable.

…

Apparently we’re gonna be here for a while.

“Are you comfortable?” she asks eventually.

“Comfortable enough,” I say. “Hopefully this won’t take long.”

She gives a small nod and gets down to business.

“So, walk me through it,” she says. “What happened today?”

I sigh and make myself comfortable by angling straight forward and putting my hands in my lap.

And staring at them.

“I was at the park after work and a baseball almost hit me in the head. Fujimura came to retrieve it and then left. The End.”

“…That’s it?” she says. “There wasn’t anything else?”

“What does that mean?” I try to keep the edge out of my voice but, like, 90% fail. “Is my almost getting killed not enough?”

Mom freezes. Chooses her next words carefully.

“It… is,” she starts. “I’m just… He didn’t say anything to you?”

“…I don’t really want to talk about that.”

“…Ah.”

Recognition dawns on her face.

Followed by a flicker of disappointment.

I hate that it’s there and I hate that I put it there and I hate that that’s what puts it there.

But I see it.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says, her voice softer. “I won’t pry further if you don’t want to talk about it.”

My jaw unclenches.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

She nods again, letting the subject go without question.

“Okay,” she says. “Then back to the original question—what are we doing about the party?”

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

“I… still don’t know,” I say, then give a little chuckle. A genuine one, even. “It really would help if we actually knew what we were deciding, huh?”

“It really would,” she smiles. Then grows more serious. “And… I really am sorry I brought him up like that. I probably should have realized it was still a sore subject.”

My jaw clenches again.

“I mean… you didn’t really ‘bring him up’ as much as he came up in conversation after you asked about something else. I can’t fault you for that.”

She grins again.

“Look at you, being all mature.”

She ruffles my hair into a fluffy mess, and I balk—“Hey!”—then straighten it back into its normal mess.

Her grin turns into a smile, then all the way back to sad.

She deflates into the couch.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she says, “I haven’t spoken to Fujimura-kun much lately either.”

And thatgets my attention.

I glance over, and she has the invitation in her hands. She opens it.

“You… haven’t?” I ask.

“I haven’t,” she says, eyes staring through the card. “And I have even less contact with the rest of his family, so I’m just feeling a little out of the loop, I guess.”

My jaw clenches.

“But… you’re his coach,” I snap. “How can he just disappear like that?”

Mom’s expression shutters the slightest bit.

“I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

Wait, there’s more?

“What happened?” I ask.

“Well, like I said, I haven’t seen him or spoken with him in weeks. I haven’t heard anything about him formally quitting the team or anything, but he has been skipping practice, and I don’t really see any of my boys unless it’s for baseball functions. I’ve even had to start training a new shortstop, so if he came back now…” She gives a small, resigned shrug. “…I don’t know.”

It takes a minute for her words to sink in.

And then…

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Another shortstop.

Their third one in 10 months!

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy fuck.

What?

Mom hadn’t mentioned him coming back, but when I saw him at the park earlier, I guess I just kind of assumed that…

But no.

Fujimura has still been skipping practice.

So, he has time to fuck around at the park with Hoshino, but then the rest of his teammates—and his coach—just get the middle finger? Is that it?

And after Mom entrusted him—a first-year—with this big responsibility when at most schools he would probably still be a fucking benchwarmer.

And this is how he repays her.

No.

He can’t treat people this way.

It’s not right.

“I’ll do it,” I say, and Mom and I both startle a bit.

“Huh?”

“I’ll find out about the party,” I say, rising to my feet. “And then we can make a decision together, okay? You, me, and Hina-chan, too.”

Mom blinks a couple times. She looks… surprised. Maybe a little wary.

Then she smiles in relief, and my heart clenches. Ow.

“Could you?” she says. “That would be great, actually.”

“Of course,” I say, and give her one final smile. “I’ll do it right now.”

And by the time I reach my room, I already have LINE pulled up.