Chapter 14
Issei tested the temperature of the water from the shower with his hand, standing shivering in the cold bathroom until it was finally warm enough for him to get in. He sighed with pleasure as the hot streams of water struck his body; he'd turned it up as high as he could stand it, and he intended to stay in here until the hot water ran out.
For once, there was no reason why he shouldn't. It was Sunday afternoon, so he didn't have school to worry about. He'd finished the last of the dreaded university entrance exams the day before, so he didn't even have to feel guilty about not studying. And best of all, he was completely alone in the house. Sakura had gone over to spend time with some of her friends, as a sort of continuation of the end-of-exams celebration that had been held the night before. Her parents were away as they so often were on the weekends.
He'd been invited to the after-the-party party, of course, but he'd turned the invitation down. For one thing, it would have been just him, Sakura, and a half dozen of her female friends. He'd spent time with that group before and enjoyed himself, but given that more than half of them had been in his psychology class, he didn't really want to open himself up to the amateur psychoanalyzing that was certain to start once they realized the implications of the fact that he did enjoy himself so much with them.
There was also the matter of the tension between him and Sakura, but at least things had started to improve in that area. The ice that had been broken the day of that fateful psych class had remained unfrozen, and more thawed every day. Issei knew it would be a long time, if ever, before they were comfortable with the sort of easy touching they'd once enjoyed with each other, but at least he now believed the friendship would be salvaged, not much the worse for wear.
Issei reached up to lather the shampoo into his hair, and grimaced slightly at the feel of the strands running through his fingers. It was getting long; he should have gotten it cut quite a while ago. He kept putting it off, however; in fact, since the day he'd let Sakura put that damn makeup on him, he'd had to fight with himself over every haircut. He kept leaving it until it was long enough that he either had to give in and commit to growing it out, and look silly until it reached a decent length, or go out and get it cut. It was reaching that stage again, and the internal argument wasn't going any better this time around, either.
In fact, if anything, it was worse. He'd gone to several of the websites Sakamoto-sensei had recommended to him, and he'd discovered that he was far from being alone in his dilemma. In fact, he had to admire the courage of the other people whose stories he'd read; he at least knew for a fact that he was indeed a female soul who'd mistakenly reincarnated herself as a male. They had no such assurances, only a driving feeling that they were trapped in their own bodies.
And it was easy enough to feel sorry for himself by saying that they were all in America, which was a much more open and tolerant country than Japan, but the truth was, in some of the areas these people had grown up, it looked like people were less tolerant than they were here in Tokyo.
The fact was, all the excuses in the world couldn't change the fact that what was really driving Issei was fear. He knew what he wanted; his conversation with Sakamoto-sensei had made it clear to him, and reading the stories of others like him who'd dared to live their lives the way they wanted to only crystallized the desire into a need.
It wasn't so much the mechanics of his body that he hated. Physically, he didn't mind being male so much; in fact, it had a few distinct advantages over being female. He was perhaps in a unique position to be able to compare the full range of both experiences with first hand knowledge.
The part that drove him nearly mad was the expectations that were placed on him, because he had this type of body instead of the other. Males were expected to act, speak, even think in certain ways, and Issei didn't fit any of them. In his mind and heart he was still a woman, and the more he struggled to hide that, the more stifled and despairing he felt.
What he wanted more than anything was to be free to just be himself, to act the way he wanted, to dress the way he wanted, without having to worry about having the shit beaten out of him in response. He wanted to wear the kind of beautiful clothes Sakura took for granted; he wanted to have guys looking at him appreciatively; he wanted to have people call him 'pretty' without meaning it as an insult. But society said males couldn't be what he was, and so he was trapped squarely between two worlds.
It was a catch-22 situation, with no way out. At least, not as long as he let the fear control him. The question was, was he strong enough to move past it?
Stepping back under the spray to rinse his hair off, he stood there for a moment, letting the water drag his hair down into his face. It really was getting long, probably the longest he'd ever had it in this body. He pushed the line a little further each time he fought with himself over the issue; perhaps he was subconsciously hoping to eventually reach a point where by the time he'd convinced himself to cut it, it was long enough to look good.
But in the meantime, he was only torturing himself. Running his hands through it again, Issei took a deep breath, and forced himself to make a conscious decision. He wasn't going to cut it, this time. He was letting it grow out, to shoulder length at least.
When he let the breath out, a small portion of the weight that always hung over his soul seemed to leave with it. He laughed, the sound shaky as it bounced off the tile walls. Well, he'd taken the first step. Whether or not he'd keep the promise to himself was another matter. It was all well and good to decide to be bold when he was here, alone - doing so in public was a whole different issue.
Somehow, he had to find the courage to live his life the way he wanted to, rather than pandering to everyone else's notions of what he should be. It would be the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life; like most empaths, Issei was hyper-aware of what other people thought of him, and he tended to do his best to minimize any negative feelings towards him, purely out of self defence. But if he could pull it off, the reward of feeling free for perhaps the first time in this life would be more than worth the risks.
He reached for the soap to wash himself with, and paused when his gaze landed on the contents of the shelf below the soap. It was a woman's razor and shaving gel, presumably belonging to either Sakura or her mother. He'd seen it before, of course; it was just always there, like the rest of the soaps and shampoos, and it was just sort of part of the 'scenery' of the bathroom. With the oddly reckless feeling that was settling over him now that he'd taken a step in a dangerous direction, however, Issei found himself contemplating things he really shouldn't have been thinking about.
Then he caught himself. Why shouldn't he think about it? If he was serious about 'living his life the way he wanted and to hell with what anyone else thought', then what reason did he have to chide himself for wanting to borrow the thing and make his legs as smooth as Sakura's always were?
No reason, except the fear that had been with him so long that the response of crushing 'inappropriate' thoughts had become a reflex. If Issei could have seen the rather wild smile that crossed his face as he reached for the razor, he might have had second thoughts about what he was getting into. As it was, he just let the rush of emotions carry him along, goading him into acting on the impulses he'd spent so many years ignoring.
By the time the water began to run cold and he was forced to get out of the shower, Issei's limbs were as smooth as he could make them. He'd picked up a couple of small nicks; he was lucky enough to have inherited the stereotypical Japanese lack of body and facial hair, which meant he'd never actually used a razor before in any context. But overall he thought he'd done a fairly decent job.
Towelling off was a unique experience; he discovered quickly that his legs were now very sensitive to touch and texture. He knew it was a small step in the grand scheme of things, but there was a sort of heady thrill running through Issei's system at the knowledge that he'd just done something most people would condemn him for. Growing his hair out was one thing; there were plenty of guys who had long hair these days, and nobody could argue that Issei's features weren't suited to it. But people looked askance at guys who shaved their legs, even the ones who had legitimate reasons to do so.
Humming softly to himself, feeling oddly content, Issei wrapped the towel around his waist and tied it at one side. He brushed his hair out quickly before leaving the bathroom, steam billowing out into the hallway with him when he opened the door.
He walked back to his room, most of his attention focused on the way his legs felt when they brushed by each other. He suspected the enhanced sensitivity would fade fairly quickly, so he wanted to enjoy it while he could.
His hand touched the knob of his bedroom door, and he found himself hesitating. Glancing over his shoulder at Sakura's door, he bit his lip and sighed. Part of him wished he dared to go raid her closet and finish what he'd started. Unfortunately Sakura could come home at any moment, and he wasn't nearly ready to be caught at the game he was playing.
In all honesty, despite his newfound resolution, he wasn't entirely certain he was ready to see himself in a skirt or some other undeniably feminine article of clothing. He had a feeling he was going to have to work his up to this with small steps. There was such a thing as going overboard.
Still, it was disappointing. He hated not finishing what he started, and this felt distressingly like chickening out again. Well, he'd already taken a couple of big steps today; he'd just have to be satisfied with that.
It wasn't until he was in his room and heading for his dresser that it occurred to him that there was at least one piece of feminine clothing he could wear without fear of it being revealed, if he was careful. He blushed hotly at the thought, and knew that this was something he shouldn't be thinking about. Sakura would undoubtedly not mind him borrowing her clothing; she'd given it to him herself often enough. But that was outerwear, not something intimate. He doubted she'd be so forgiving if she caught him raiding her panty drawer instead of her closet.
He stood in the middle of the room, torn between his modesty, his principles, and the reckless boldness that had possessed him since he'd made the decision not to cut his hair.
In the end, boldness won out. Heart pounding, Issei went across the hall and eased Sakura's door open with hands that shook with the force of the conflicting emotions inside him. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. He couldn't believe he was even thinking about this!
Her room hadn't changed since the last time he'd been in it. There were clothes scattered across the bed and makeup on the vanity, most likely from her attempts to choose an outfit for today's party. He moved forward, doing his best to walk silently even though he knew there was nobody in the house to hear him.
It wasn't hard to find the dresser drawer that contained her lingerie. Issei was a little bewildered at the sheer variety of colours, fabrics, and types of the articles inside the drawer. Hesitantly he reached inside and fished around at the very back, where the seldom used things ended up. If he took something from off the top she'd almost certainly notice that it was missing.
He came up with a pair of white panties that differed from male briefs primarily in the softness of the material, and the fact that the front was all one piece. The only truly feminine touches were a bit of lace at the legs and waist, and a tiny white silk bow on the waistband at the front.
He closed the drawer and all but fled the room with his prize, slamming his own door shut behind him and leaning against it, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. If his pulse got any faster or harder, he thought his heart might burst right out of him. He started laughing at himself, and then he couldn't stop; he wound up sitting on the floor with his back to the door, laughing himself almost sick. It wasn't hysterical laughter so much as a release of years worth of tension. This was going to be one of those things he would look back on, twenty years from now, and wonder what the hell he'd been thinking.
Ditching the towel, he dug through his clothes until he came up with simple black jeans and a black t-shirt. He pulled the panties on, and was both surprised and grateful that they seemed to fit him well enough. Once he'd pulled the jeans over them and tucked the t-shirt in, he stood in front of the mirror and examined himself.
There was literally no way to tell what he'd been up to that day. The clothes covered everything, but Issei knew the truth, and it made him feel light-headed and oddly liberated. Well, if he was doomed to be a freak, he supposed he might as well revel in it.
Laughing again, he grabbed the towel and padded back down the hall to the bathroom, his spirits rising with each step. The denim of the jeans brushed against the still sensitive skin of his legs with each step, the sensation a subtle reinforcement of the unusual lightness of spirit that had come over him.
He hung the towel up and turned to go, but a scattering of makeup containers on the counter caught his eye. He blinked at them, and frowned. They were mostly the sort of cheap lip-gloss you could find in any drugstore, which meant they were almost certainly Sakura's. Why had she left them out here, rather than in her room?
Picking one up, he studied it. It was just a little round container with a lid that screwed off, half full of translucent pink gel. Unable to resist, he used a finger to apply some to his own lips, and glanced at the mirror.
The gel was clear, and the colour was hardly different from his natural lip colour. The overall effect was just to make his lips shiny, as if they were wet. He smiled, then laughed when he saw the way his eyes were glittering in the mirror. He was sure the 'thrill of the forbidden' aspect of all of this would wear off eventually if he really did follow his plan, but for the moment he simply enjoyed it.
He pocketed the container, figuring Sakura wasn't likely to miss just one, and sauntered out to the living room. Sprawling over one of the couches, he turned the TV on and flipped through the channels until he found a rerun for one of the J-Dramas he and Sakura followed. She'd be home soon, but it would be simple enough to lick the gloss off, and then she'd never know what he'd been doing with his day. And in the meantime, he got to luxuriate in the feeling that he'd taken the first steps towards realizing his freedom from the misery that had hounded him since he'd first realized the implications of his dreams of Enju's life.