? – ?
The Gate of the Millennium Choir
Ren could hear a bell slowly ringing. Back and forth. Back and forth. Muted against the golden metal. He put a hand on the door to feel the sound, and he found it warm.
"It's not time for you to be here, yet," the precious thing said.
Ren tried to look at them, but he couldn't manage to. His eyes didn't quite focus. He kept seeing double.
"You're stretching yourself too thin," she continued. "Not to say you're doing badly, far from it."
Ren opened his mouth to speak. His lips felt numb, his tongue limp in his mouth.
The precious thing laughed, like the rattling of chains. "You're fighting for what you believe in," he said. "But you can't ignore your own heart."
A hand on Ren's cheek.
"Child," she said. "You are love. You are blessed with hearts bound to yours, and you love them. Don't deny yourself that."
"I'm afraid," Ren replied.
"You've been hurt before, haven't you?" he asked. "Seems a good reason to be afraid. But that fear doesn't rule you. You chose your fate, Trickster."
Something grabbed his left hand, pulled him away, yanked him down the steps away from that place, away from the golden door. "Come on," a familiar voice rang in his ears, one tinged with a French accent. "If you rest here, you'll never wake again. Come on."
Ren held out a hand, reached back out to the precious thing, who laughed. They took his hand. "Be free," she said. "Love implicitly," he said. "Trust your heart," they said.
And Ren woke up. The patter of raindrops through the barely-open window. An empty attic. Something once tight in his chest, now unwound.
6/6 – Monday
Morning
Cafe Leblanc
Despite the cafe's door being firmly closed, it still smelled like rain.
"Where's Yusuke?" Ren asked, descending the stairs.
Sojiro glanced towards him before returning to wiping down the countertop. "He got up about an hour ago. Drank some coffee, ate leftover curry, went to school."
Ren nodded. "Gotcha. Uh, thanks again for letting him stay the night. And for making us dinner. And–"
Sojiro cut him off with a laugh. "Ren," he said. "You don't have to keep thanking me every time I do anything nice for you." He jerked one thumb towards the door. "Umbrella's in the coat rack, same as always. Don't walk too fast out there, it gets pretty slippery after fresh rain." He placed a protein bar on the counter, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know this isn't the best breakfast, but it's better than nothing. Now, skedaddle or you're gonna be late."
"Gotcha," Ren replied. He passed an old woman in one of the booths, and gave her a quick nod. "Good morning, ma'am." Then, he stuffed the bar in his pocket.
She beamed at Ren. "Oh, what a nice young man you've raised, Sojiro."
Sojiro chuckled. "No miss, we're not related."
Ren bent down to fetch an umbrella from the rack, just catching the tail end of the woman's reply: "–fooled me." He straightened up, adjusted his bag on his shoulders, and froze at the sight of a woman right in front of him. Red dress. Raven-black hair. Gazing with love and melancholy at an infant, cradled in her arms.
"Sojiro," he said. "What exactly is this painting doing here?"
"Oh!" Sojiro laughed. "I forgot to mention. Yusuke asked if I would be interested in it. And I said yes." He shrugged. "I think he said it'd do the most good here? Something like that."
Ren just stared at Sayuri. And he felt his chest ache, and the feeling was sublime. Wondrous. Like breathing in air so fresh it burnt your lungs.
6/6 – Monday
After School
Shujin Academy
Ren hadn't exactly been avoiding Ryuji all day, but...no, he was definitely avoiding him. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help but feel somewhat panicked around the jock. Yusuke's words bouncing around his head. He didn't want to...inflict something. Something bad but unspecific. Hurt Ryuji, maybe. Or just burden him with Ren's feelings.
Ryuji however, possessed no such apprehensions. "Yo Ren!" The blond rushed down the few stairs at Shujin's front entrance, splashing another few students at his haste. "Wait up!"
Unable to find any excuse, Ren waited. "Uh," he said. "Don't you have an umbrella?"
Ryuji shook his head, sending droplets in every direction. "Nah, forgot mine. No biggie though, I don't mind the rain."
Ren smiled, rolled his eyes and held his umbrella out farther, tilting it against the rain. "Come on. I'd be a pretty shitty leader if I let you catch pneumonia."
"Much 'bliged," Ryuji said, and scooted underneath the umbrella.
And they walked. Ren focused on his steps, making sure he was walking at Ryuji's pace, matching him, keeping him dry under the–
"I never took you for the dancing type."
A smile on his sun's lips; such a lovely sight. Common as the sunrise, but no less wondrous. "Yeah. I'm not, but ████'s been teaching me. We've gotta find something to do while you're working." His sun winked, then furrowed his brow. "Wait. That came out weird–"
The Trickster snorted. "Dude." He leaned in, pressing his forehead against his sun's, letting out all the breath in his lungs at once. His sun smelled sort of sharp, yet beautiful, like a flower held just a little too close. So very, very wonderful. "I love you."
Hand in hand, swaying back and forth across the dusty floorboards. There was music, but the Trickster barely heard it. Barely registered it. He was far too calm. Far too in love.
"Uh, Ren?" Ryuji's brown eyes locked with his, an odd look on his face.
"Hm?" For whatever reason, Ren's voice sounded very calm and very small in his throat.
He was smiling, but sort of skewed, sort of awkward. "You're kinda staring at me?"
And Ren was knocked back into lucidity, his face heating up to nuclear temperature in an instant. "Right! Right." He stared back at his own feet, holding the umbrella tight in both hands, stiff, lips drawn in a tight line. "Sorry. Got distracted."
"I mean," Ryuji chuckled, "I know I'm a good looking guy and all, but–"
"Oh my god!" Ren interrupted, snickering and pushing Ryuji out into the rain. "Shut up!"
Ryuji kept laughing, smacking Ren's arm away, scooting back under the umbrella. A little closer than he'd been before. "Uh. So, you're not obligated to tell me nothing, but I just...I dunno. Been kind of a while since we've hung out, you know? So, you doin' okay?"
It had been a while. Even before Yusuke had complicated matters – though it wasn't at all his fault for doing so – had Ren been avoiding Ryuji? No, that...that...maybe. Maybe he had been. "I'm sorry."
"Hey," he said, in that awful, wonderful soft voice he spoke in sometimes. "No worries, dude. Not like you've gotta–"
"I want to, though." Ren let out a long, frustrated sigh. His eyes drifted back down to the slick pavement. "I think...I think I'm scared."
"Uh." Ryuji was silent for a little while. Struggling with articulation, maybe. "Scared of me?"
"Scared of hurting you." And there it was. Not the full truth, but a bare minimum of honesty. Ryuji deserved far more, but that was the most he was comfortable saying. "I don't want..." I don't want to lose you.
Another little silence. Another pause, listening to the rain, to other students nearby. And then Ryuji's arm was around Ren's shoulders, pulling him into an awkward standing half-embrace. "No one's perfect," he mumbled. "Not even you, Ren. And you're damn close." Ryuji chuckled. "We're friends. I'm not gonna hate you if you mess up. I don't think..." He sighed. "I dunno if you can, like, make it so you'll never hurt me. And I'm pretty sure I can't make it so I'll never hurt you. People are weird and complicated and kinda shitty like that. But I know I'm still gonna be here even when it hurts. So, uh, it'll be okay?" Ryuji's grip loosened. "I'm bad at this."
"Yeah," Ren replied, smirking despite himself. And he leaned into the blond. "But you're right. I'll...I'll try and keep that in mind. I don't know if I'll ever stop being terrified of hurting you, but I'll try to not let that get the better of me, I guess."
"Alright." He could hear the grin in Ryuji's voice. "That works fine for me. And, like, nothing wrong with just saying you need to keep stuff to yourself sometimes."
Right. Once again, he had to be reminded of that. Ren took a deep breath. He was tired of having to be reminded of that. "I'm kinda figuring something out right now," he said. "I'm kinda...not really comfortable saying what it is yet. But it's important to me, and I want to talk about it with you. But I've gotta know how I feel, before I ask how you feel. That make sense?" Ren could have sworn he heard Ryuji's heart skip a beat.
"Yeah dude," Ryuji replied. His grip on Ren's shoulder tightened, but in a good way. A comforting way. "That makes perfect sense."
6/7 – Tuesday
After School
Shibuya Central Square
Ren had sort of expected to take the rest of the day off. Ann had a last-minute gig near Kosei, and Yusuke had offered to help escort her there and back. Ryuji had texted only a vague decline, saying he had "something he needed to look into." After that, Ren was prepared to simply spend a day relaxing, studying and listening to the rain. He'd gotten all the way back to Leblanc before his phone buzzed.
Mishima
Heya Ren!
Just checking, are u up to meet today? No worries if not.
And now he was back in Shibuya, trudging across the rain-slick Central Square, trying very hard not to mope. It wasn't Mishima's fault he'd taken such a detour, just unfortunate–
"I think we're being followed," Morgana said from inside his bag. "Raise the umbrella up a bit so I can see behind us?"
Ren had to force himself to keep walking at his normal pace, despite the speed his heart was now beating. He leaned forward, tilting the umbrella with him. "Followed by who?"
"Hrm." Silence. Ren could feel Morgana shifting around in his bag, probably adjusting to get a better view. "Some girl from Shujin. I saw her on the train back to Yongen-Jaya, and on then on the train here too."
Ren raised an eyebrow. "A student?"
"Looks like it."
Oh. Well, that wasn't that bad. He'd fully expected a police officer, or a suspicious looking adult in plain-clothes disguise. Ren slowed down, carefully fishing his phone out of his pocket, opening the photo app and pointing the face-camera over his shoulder as inconspicuously as he could manage. There was someone there, a dozen feet back, a sky-blue umbrella tucked in her armpit and holding some sort of magazine, which she had open over her face. Sure enough though, he could spy the familiar black and red pattern of a Shujin student on her skirt.
"Was it anyone you recognize?" Ren asked.
"No," Morgana replied. He shifted again. "What should we do?"
Ren stopped walking, kept his eye on the girl through his phone, just to confirm something. She continued for a few steps, then abruptly froze, probably noticing Ren's lack of movement. "Well," he mumbled, stuffing the phone back in his pocket, "I think I'll let her know she's blown her cover." And he turned around, leaning the umbrella back up so he could actually see the young woman.
She started, and Ren could see two auburn eyes peering out at him between the umbrella and the magazine. Yep, she certainly saw him. He'd fully expected her to run, but she didn't move.
"Okay," he said. For whatever reason, maybe just the fact that she was stalking him in the first place, he was beginning to lose whatever patience he might have had for this stranger. "Screw it. Everyone already thinks I'm a murderer or something, no use being polite." And he walked up to her.
She continued to stare at him through that little gap, eyes narrow and sharp, watching him like a hawk might watch a mouse.
Ren stopped in front of her, feet firmly planted. Silent but for the rain around them, the bustle of a few other pedestrians fleeing to or from the shelter of the subway entrance. "So," he said, "are you going to tell me why you were stalking me?"
She seemed to contemplate that. "You have no evidence to that claim," she replied, calm, but with an edge to her tone. Neither a confirmation nor a denial; alright, she was playing that game then.
Ren shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Fine. Have you been following me?"
"In the literal sense of the word," she said. Noncommittal, but no less sharp.
Ren was very tempted to simply flip the young woman off and walk away, but he'd gain nothing from that. "And you're hiding your face for, what, your own health?"
Her eyes narrowed, and she closed the magazine – which made a rather unusual sound, a far clearer 'snap' than would usually be expected; Ren realized she'd probably been keeping some sort of notebook hidden behind it. Now, as she stored the magazine in her bag, he was finally able to see her face. A neck-length brown bob-cut with a matching hairband, eyes that were brown verging on red, a stern expression that seemed natural on her. Sort of familiar, but he couldn't quite–
"Oh!" Ren started. "You headbutted me."
Instantly, the young woman flushed. "That was an accident!"
"No, I know," Ren replied with a laugh. And a name drifted back to him from then, the one at the very top of the exam rankings. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're Makoto Niijima, right?"
She stared at him, letting out a little huff of air through her nose. "I am," she said.
"Gotcha." Well, now he had a name if nothing else. "So, Miss Niijima, why are you following me?"
Makoto glared directly into his eyes with an intensity he couldn't help but glance away from. Then, she sighed. "Ren Amamiya," she said, with a strict tone beyond her years, "you're hiding something. Something big, something potentially illegal. As the student council president, I can't overlook that."
Oh. Top of the exams and president of the council, no kidding. Ren couldn't help but feel a little irritated, maybe at her presumption, maybe at her status, maybe simply that she was right. "Well, you could have just asked me." He cracked his neck, trying his best to stare her down.
She scoffed. "Would you have told me the truth if I did?"
"Would you have believed the truth if I told you it?" he fired back.
Makoto seemed genuinely taken aback by that. Her brow furrowed, and she was silent a moment. "Very well," she finally said. "What exactly are you hiding, Amamiya?"
For reasons he couldn't have possibly begun to articulate, words spilled off his tongue rapid-fire. "For starters, I'm currently getting yanked around by some dipshit with a god complex who both trusts me and wants to control my every action. Oh and about a week ago, a Phoenix Ranger put a gun to my head, but then proceeded to save my life; and the only reason I was able to convince her I wasn't a threat is because she heard about me from a friend of hers who is the boss of a girl I met last month, who is a robot. Also, I'm probably getting prophetic visions from the future-past, or I'm having a complete psychotic breakdown, and either way I'm apparently in love with my best friend and I'm really not sure how to feel about that."
Makoto just stared at him, mouth hanging slightly open, looking completely and utterly baffled. "Well," she finally said, "super. I'll be sure let Kobayakawa know that you're fucking insane."
Ren grinned. "Oh, so that's who you're working for."
She raised an eyebrow, momentarily confused, before all color drained from her face. "What."
"Cool, see you round Makoto. Thanks for the info." And with that, he turned on his heel and strode back towards Central Street.
"Wha – hey!" Makoto shouted after him, her voice cracking. "You can't just...you can't..." Apparently lost for words, she simply let out a long, furious yell.
Ren simply replied with a thumbs-up.
"Eat shit Amamiya!" she retorted. Ren could her stomping her way back towards the subway.
"That was pretty clever," Morgana said from inside his bag, sounding reticent to admit as much. "But if telling her all that comes back to bite us? You owe me sushi."
He chuckled. "Duly noted."
Mishima looked almost like a wet cat, standing outside the Shibuya video rental store with both an umbrella and a black raincoat that was a little too big for him. The moment he saw Ren though, he perked right up. "Hey!"
"Hey yourself," Ren replied, still grinning. "You're not a fan of the rain, huh?"
Mishima gave him an odd look and a skewed smile. "Uh, yeah, how could you tell?"
Ren shrugged, twisting a lock of hair between his finger. "I'm psychic like that."
Mishima snorted, that same wonderful laugh. "Shut up!" He reached over and socked Ren in the shoulder – just a little too hard.
"Anyway," Ren said, massaging his new bruise, "what did you wanna talk about?"
"Right, right, so," Mishima began, almost stumbling over his words in his haste, "I've been emailing Miss Yamagishi and she–"
Ren raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, miss who now?"
Mishima gave him an odd look. "Uh, Fuuka? You introduced me to her?"
A flash of bright teal hair in Ren's memory. "Oh, right. Hacker lady."
Mishima laughed. "Yeah, her. So, we've been emailing back and forth kinda every day? And she's really really cool, but anyway; I brought up that maid service thing you told me about, and she started sending back all this crazy info oh my god."
Ren couldn't help but get a little distracted by the glimmer in the boy's eyes, the way he talked half with his hands, the way he seemed so full of energy, so full of life. He could still remember Mishima's empty, sunken-eyed expression back when they'd first met. The wounds from that time probably hadn't finished scarring over, but only two months later and he looked so wonderfully joyful. The thought made Ren's chest feel tight, aching in the best way.
"–so, yeah." Mishima withdrew a thin folder and handed it to Ren, careful to tip his umbrella forward to try and prevent the rain from falling on it. A few drops still hit the manilla before Ren moved it to the safety of his own umbrella. "Apparently, the dude who owns that maid service is one of those technologically-illiterate paranoid old dudes. Upside, his web security is crap. Downside, there's not much either me or Fuuka could get off him."
Ren opened the folder and flipped through the pages – screenshots of emails, mostly, and a few complicated documents covered in tiny numbers. "What exactly is this?" he asked, holding up the document.
Mishima chuckled. "It's like, a monthly financial statement? I highlighted the important bits." He leaned over to point at a few bits of yellow-highlighted text, his umbrella bumping against Ren's.
"Gotcha. Thanks." Those areas of interest told a pretty compelling story. Gross income for the month of April. Subtracted business expenses. Current full-time employees. The total amount split up for paying those said employees. And one quite large number, double-underlined with a series of little exclamation-points drawn in the margins. "I'm guessing this last number is how much the owner took for himself?"
"Yep." Mishima's expression was serious, determined. But not sad, not defeated. And that made all the difference. "I did the math, he's barely paying the maids minimum wage. Plus, if he split up pay unevenly, it'd be even worse for them. And the guy's paying himself over ten times the total of everyone else." He shuddered. "I mean, I bet it's probably just as bad for workers at some other businesses, but that still makes me sick."
Ren nodded. Vaguely, an echo of Yoshida's voice in the back of his mind. "There's a lot that needs to change."
"Yep," Mishima replied, breaking into a grin, "and the Phantom Thieves are gonna be the ones to change it."
"I'll be sure to pass on your sentiment to them," Ren laughed. He closed the folder and opened his bag. "Uh," he said to the prone Morgana, who stared up at him with impatient, feline eyes.
"Just give it!" he mewled, and reached up to nab the folder from Ren's hands, sliding it under his tummy and laying back down.
"I've been meaning to ask," Mishima said, as Ren closed his bag again, "why exactly do you bring your cat everywhere? Like, even to school and everything. I didn't know that was allowed."
Ren shrugged. "He's a therapy cat. I've got the papers."
Mishima gave him an odd look, and then burst into laughter. "Alright, alright, no need to bust out proof or anything, I believe you." He cleared his throat. "So, yeah. That folder doesn't have anything incriminating in it, I think, but it's at least something."
"It's plenty," Ren replied, smiling. "Thank you. It's definitely enough for further investigation in person, at the very least."
"Right." Mishima shifted, looking like he was trying to articulate something. "Uh. You'll let me know if you need my help with that though, right? I don't want to be a bother or a burden or–"
Ren felt a little spark of anger at those words. Not at Mishima, but at whoever had put those thoughts in his head. "You're not either of those things, Mishima," he interrupted. "I can't say when we'll be ready for that investigation, but know you'll be welcome to join us when we do."
Mishima grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks Ren. I'll be ready, I promise I won't let you down."
Ren couldn't help but chuckle. "I know you won't, Mishima."
6/8 – Wednesday
After School
Shujin Academy
Kasumi was standing outside Maruki's office, an odd expression on her face, her back to the office door, staring out the window.
"Hey Kasumi," Ren said.
She started. "Oh, hello Ren." And she smiled. "It's nice to see you. How's your day been?"
Ren shrugged. "It's been fine, I guess." He gestured to the door. "Are you waiting for him?"
She shook her head. "I just got out of our meeting," Kasumi replied. "I guess I'm sort of..." She trailed off, gaze returning to the open window.
"Thinking?" Ren prompted.
She started again. "Sorry, sorry. Yes, thinking."
Ren couldn't help but feel a little nervous about being late to his appointment, but he forced that anxiety down and focused on the girl in front of him. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. But also, if you want to talk about anything, I'm here."
Kasumi smiled. "That's very kind Ren, thank you." She tilted her head, visibly contemplating his offer. "I...If it would be alr-ight with you, could I tell you what I forgot about? It came up today and I can't get it out of my head."
His breath caught in his throat. "Yeah, of course." He moved a little closer, just so she could whisper better if she wished to.
Kasumi glanced around the corridor, biting her lip. "It's not..." She paused. "I'm not ashamed, but it feels weird, so I don't like to talk about it with most people."
Ren nodded. "I know what that's like," he replied.
Kasumi was silent for a few seconds, a few breaths. "I forgot my sister," she said, in a very small voice.
Ren blinked. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but thought better of it. It obviously brought her pain, her comfort was more important than his understanding. "That must be awful," he said.
She nodded. "My parents don't like to talk about her. And it's not like I don't remember anything, I know we used to play together, and I remember watching her perform." Kasumi shifted in place, staring at the ground, hands clasped together.
Ren felt awful for changing the subject, but his curiosity got the better of him. "You say perform. Was she a gymnast too?"
Kasumi nodded, a small smile on her lips. "Mhm! I think we used to train together." And that smile faded. "But she's gone now. And I don't remember what happened. There's just this big black spot in my mem-ory, and no matter what, I can't figure out..." She shook her head. "I wish I knew what happened. Even if it's bad, I want to know."
Ren was silent for a moment. He didn't know how to respond to that. But something...something in him spoke up, even as his mind idled. "I forgot my friends, I think." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not the same, I think, but I'm...also worried something bad happened to them. There's a lot I don't remember, but I'm terrified one of them got hurt, or..." He couldn't say it. He didn't want to say it. "Yeah. I know the feeling."
"Thank you," she said, quietly, "that's..." And Kasumi smiled. "Thank you, Ren. I'm glad that I'm not alone." She waved her arms back and forth a little, like twigs in the breeze. "I'm very happy I met you. I feel like you underst-and me really well, and that's good I think. And I like talking to you a lot."
Ren couldn't help but smile. "The feeling's mutual. I'm glad I met you too, Kasumi."
6/8 – Wednesday
Evening
Takemi Medical Clinic
Ren massaged his leg where Takemi had injected him, careful not to displace the bandage. "How often do I need to get these again?"
"Once a month," she replied, dropping the now-empty needle in a small white box affixed to the wall next to her desk. Then, she sat back in her chair and started digging through a drawer as she talked. "Just so you know, you won't be affected by it all at once. It'll take a few years for your body to fully adjust, but I'll be giving you a mix that should help even out your development. With any luck, you should notice subtle changes by this time next month, but there won't be anything significant for a little while."
Ren nodded. "Gotcha," he replied. Even small changes sounded divine. Maybe it was just the placebo effect kicking in, but something felt...different now. Just a bit. Like the skin of his face fit a little bit better around his skull.
"I mentioned acne earlier, I believe," Takemi continued, "but also keep in mind that your voice will probably start to deepen. Those monthly nausea spells should lessen significantly, though there's a chance they'll get very intense for a few months and then stop altogether after that. Also, you might experience some different sensations around texture, taste and pain, that's perfectly normal.
"Emotions-wise, your brain is probably going to start to see the world in different ways over time. You might lose interests, or gain new ones, or feel certain emotions more or less intensely." She withdrew a small black box, no more than a foot on any side, and placed it on the desk next to her. "Feel free to tell me about your feelings if you wish, but I'd recommend you find a counselor or therapist of some sort if you don't have one already."
Ren was ahead of the curve on that one. "Is that the anti-panic stuff?" he asked, gesturing to the box.
She smirked over her shoulder at him. "Sharp, kid." Then she laughed. "Yes, it is. These should be taken as needed, no more than once a day, and you'll probably end up getting really hungry afterwards."
She opened the box and carefully started transferring small gel pearls into an orange pill bottle. "I won't restrict your usage at all, but I really wouldn't recommend them for anything other than panic. They're not a ubiquitous downer, they just counteract an abundance of epinephrine to stop your brain from going into fight-or-flight. If you find yourself dealing with lasting anxiety, let me know and I can help set up some treatment for that as well."
Once again, terminology that was half lost on him. Once again, the gist was clear enough. "Thank you," Ren said. Then he hesitated. Was now the right time? Yeah, fuck it. If it wasn't, it was close enough to it. "Do you mind if I ask you a few things? Not about...I mean, just...about the reading stuff you sent me. A couple weeks ago."
She sent him an odd look before returning to her work. "Can't promise I'll be able to answer satisfactorily. It depends on your question." Another flick of her gaze towards and away from him. "You're always welcome to ask it."
Ren swallowed. Okay. Okay. "I...one of the articles you sent, it used...uh, one particular term, a bunch? Transgender?"
Takemi simply nodded, continuing to move gel pills from box to bottle, one at a time.
"I looked it up," he continued, "and it was like...it's short for trans, or uh, I mean, other way around, and I–"
"Relax," Takemi said, and her firm tone sent a simultaneous relief and tension into him. "You sound like you're about to swallow your own uvula."
Maruki's habitual advice chimed in the back of Ren's head, and he forced himself to breathe. Long breath in. Hold. Long breath out. "The definitions I found said that trans people are moving from one gender to another. And they take hormones to help them with that." He shifted on the examination table. "But I'm...not doing that? I mean, I'm already a boy, I've never...I'm not a girl. Even if the world sees me as...I mean, if...I'm still not one."
His fingers clenched tight to the edge of the table as a wave of nausea swept over him, threatening to drag him up into the empty stratosphere if he so much as loosened his grip for a second. "So I don't know what that makes me. If I'm...dysphoric, and taking testosterone, but I'm not transitioning. Because I'm not a girl, and I've never been one."
Silence followed his statement. Then, the quiet tapping of a pen against a desk. "When I was in high school," Takemi said, calm and steady. "I was a boy." Out of Ren's periphery vision, he could see her lean back in her chair, wobbling forward and backward ever so slightly. "I don't mind saying that. It doesn't change who I am now, or how I wish to present myself. It doesn't erase or foul my past experiences. It's an important, irreplaceable part of my life." A shallow, somewhat strained chuckle. "And I've had more than a few very trans-positive people get quite angry at me for describing myself as that."
Ren's gaze jerked up towards the woman, who was smiling soft and bitterly, her own eyes distant. "But..." He tried to make the words. "Isn't that like...the definition of being trans? Going from one thing to another?"
Takemi shook her head. "That is a definition, and not necessarily the only right one. And besides, I never said that I transitioned from a boy to a girl. Only that I was one a boy, and now I am a woman."
Huh. That...huh. Huh! Ren let those words sink in. They didn't apply to him, even with the genders swapped around, but...there was something lovely in it. Something simple and beautiful.
Takemi rolled her head, looking off towards something Ren couldn't see. Chasing a memory. "There are many, transgender and otherwise, who believe not only that a trans person's current self redacts all past experiences and identities, but that it is the only genuine way to be trans." She laughed again, and there was something a little more honest in it. "That's bullshit, of course. They're not wrong that such an approach is valid, but they are wrong to insist it to the exclusion of all other viewpoints. There are as many right ways to be transgender as there are transgender people."
Ren nodded slowly. All of that made sense, at least as much as it could. But still... "So, uh, does that...mean I..." He pursed his lips.
"Remember what I said before," Takemi said. Firm, but not sharp. A harmless little reminder. "Don't rely on me to figure out who you are."
"Why not!?" The words escaped him before he could catch them. "Sorry. I don't...sorry."
Takemi didn't respond right away. Tap tap tap went the end of her pen against the desk. "Because I am your doctor," she said. "And you're my patient. When I tell you about my experiences, I'm not doing so as your physician." She smiled, like it was nothing. "I'm doing so as one human being to another. Because it feels like the right thing to do." A dark curve to the corner of her expression. "But if I were to armchair diagnose your identity, and then prescribe you a treatment plan based on that identity...well, that's a slippery slope I don't care to traverse."
It clicked. "You've had that happen to you," Ren said. "Haven't you?"
Her eyes were cold, and distant. "Maybe I have," she said. "And maybe I want to spare you and my other patients from that humiliation. From being treated as some sort of outlier." Takemi leaned back in her chair and smiled, in a tired way. "Or maybe I just care about ethics. For a back-alley doctor, you know." She laughed. "I happen to be quite the kind Plague, wouldn't you say?"
Ren nodded. "Yeah. You definitely are." He took a long breath. A question danced on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he'd wanted to ask it from the start. Maybe he'd been too scared to even think the words. Or maybe it was only now that he realized what he'd been wanting. "If I were to...I mean, I'm still going to make my own choices, and either way I want to take testosterone and stuff. But if I were to call myself transgender, or say I was a trans guy, would that be...like, based on what you know about me, would that be accurate? Or, uh, okay?"
Takemi hummed. A few notes of a distant song, something almost nostalgic, even as Ren didn't know the words nor the melody. "Yes," she said. "I think it would fit you very well, if you were to choose to use it."
"Okay. Uh, thank you." Ren straightened his back, let his gaze wander across the ceiling. Trans. It was sort of an odd word, and Ren took a moment to roll it around in his head, Trans. Trans trans trans. Far less clinical than he'd expected, sort of...informal, maybe? Too intimate to be polite. It felt like a word that could maybe hide between sentences, kept under his tongue.
But he'd know. He could taste it there, feel it tickling his throat. A truth behind every iota of breath. He inhaled, and filled his lungs with it. Trans. Ren was trans .
He decided that he liked that very much.
