II

*- I don't know if he likes it or not. It's just for the sake of the plot.

Mutsuki Tooru stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself with a sour look on her face.

The dress was beautiful. Her hair was done so well that her face looked smaller and more defined. There was enough make-up; it wasn't overwhelming, but it made her look like someone else – someone more beautiful and more feminine.

She didn't like it one bit.

She took a deep sigh and turned around. She had to like it. She had to be comfortable in these kinds of clothes. Why did she feel so out of place in what is supposed to be a natural part of her daily life? She was a girl and she was supposed to like girly things.

She shook her head and took off her dress, putting it neatly on her bed. She wiped away her make-up, combed her hair into its usual look and took off her bra. Then she sat down in the middle of the room and cried.

Her wardrobe was filled with jeans and t-shirts. She had read online that some girls liked to have a boyish look, preferring to wear pants instead of skirts or dresses. But even those kinds of girls had a certain feminine air around them; the loose pants or manly shirts didn't change their curves or erased the make-up on their faces. They seemed content with being curvy or looking alluring. They looked like they enjoyed the attention they received from men.

Mutsuki sniffed and used her wrist to wipe her tears away.

That wasn't just that. They liked being girls. They liked what they were and didn't feel out of place. While Mutsuki, looking at her bare breasts right now and cringing inside, couldn't bare her own sex.

It wasn't that she hated women - it would be unreasonable – but she hated being a part of them. She couldn't recall when these feelings started, but when she noticed she couldn't relate to the women around her, she knew there was no turning back. She had taken a road which would take her somewhere she felt safe.

But she couldn't find the courage in herself to take a step towards her light.

Mutsuki got up and walked towards her wardrobe. She wore a new bra, put on her shirt and jeans, emptied her small bag into her giant backpack and put on her snickers. When she looked at the mirror and ignored her chest, she realized she felt much better.

She got out and took a deep breath. The leaves were falling and it was chilly, but Mutsuki had always liked the cold air*. She looked at her bike but decided to walk. The bookstore was close to her house after all.

Walking down the street, she could see the news on TVs in the cafés and restaurants she walked past. There were new deaths, people going missing, accidents and extraordinary last-minute surgeries. The police was working double-shift these days. She felt pity for them, along with thankfulness.

When she reached the bookstore, the first thing she noticed was the crowd. She hesitated for a minute and tried to read the sign on the window.

"Book signing?" she muttered to herself. The boy next to her turned and smiled at her.

"Yup! Takatsuki Sen," he answered cheerfully. "You know her?"

Mutsuki shook her head. "Sorry, I have no idea," she bowed. The boy just laughed and scratched his cheek.

"Nah, no problem. I don't read her books too. Got in the line for a friend."

Mutsuki smiled and bowed again, bidding him goodbye. The boy just grinned and waved at her. If he noticed the way Mutsuki was holding herself, he didn't mention.

She went around the crowd until she reached the self-help books section. She took a deep breath and started scanning through the books. Online comments hadn't given her what she wanted; maybe good old printed text would provide her with better resources.

She found a book. On the gray cover with white letters wrote "Sex and Gender: The Differences and the Right to Choose". She took a deep breath and allowed a smile on her face. It was written by a male American author, but she didn't care. It wasn't about culture or sex. There were some people like her. Just knowing this was enough to give her hope.

She chose three more books from the shelves and, zipping around the crowd, found the cashier. She quickly paid for the books, not even cringing at the expensiveness of them, and happily put them in her backpack.

On her way out, she noticed the guy walking out of the bookstore, typing a message on his phone with a worried look on his face. When he glanced up and noticed her looking, he waved and gave her a big smile.

She smiled back and responded with a small wave. There were still nice people left.