Hello there readers! I'm finally writing stuff again, and this time I have decided to write something very LGBT-related. I have had help with some transgender friends of mine in getting the experiences and such accurate, but if you feel that something's not quite right let me know in a review!
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy the prologue here!
Prologue
I was always different from everyone else. Even my family. Even those who have been dealt the curse of the Chinese Zodiac. I'm one of those who have been cursed... and yet, I'm still radically different. Akito sees me as the spawn of the Devil almost all the time, and yet he doesn't give the rest of the cursed Sohmas that degree of unwanted attention. Well, except Kyo - but he's not even within the Zodiac, and yet he is still cursed.
I, meanwhile, am not only cursed and in the Chinese Zodiac, but also the rat. Kyo, as you might've guessed, is the cat. Naturally, he is my sworn enemy, so he abuses me on a daily basis. Oh, but don't worry, I can hold my own against him... a little too well, you might say.
So what sets me apart from even him? Well, the main way our curse affects us is that if you hug someone who is not cursed and of the opposite gender, you briefly turn into the animal you're cursed with. So if, say, Kyo hugs our classmate and friend Tohru Honda, he turns into a cat for awhile.
Well, the thing is, I was born as a girl. I had X chromosomes, a vagina, and was wrapped in a pink blanket. And yet, when my mother held me for the first time, disaster struck - I had become a tiny, pink, bald rat. My life was a mess right from the start - Hatori had to come over and erase the doctors' memories of the incident.
So, yeah. I, the baby girl christened Yukiko Sohma, turned into a rat by hugging girls instead of guys. And that was the first sign that I was not like the others. But wait, there's more.
I always detested wearing dresses, skirts and stockings, and yet my mother would doll me up in such attire all the time. I was not blind to her overall lack of motherly affection, either. I clearly remember her screaming at me, asking me why such a pretty little girl like me had to be just like my older brother Ayame, right down to being unable to hug her own mother without transforming.
I, at four years old, stared into her eyes. I saw her fear, her anger, her sorrow. I also saw my own reflection within them - but there was one major difference. I had short hair, and instead of the frilly dress I was wearing in real life, I had adorned a loose dress shirt and pants.
It was then that it hit me.
"Mother... I'm not a girl."
