The locker room buzzed with idle chatter and laughter as students changed into their PE uniforms. The girls' side smelled faintly of body spray and warm fabric — familiar in a way that Ethan still wasn't used to.
He stood at her locker, fingers clutching the uniform folded neatly in her bag.
He hesitated.
This wasn't his place — not truly. Yet the reflection in the metal door reminded him of the truth: Ethan Nakamura no longer existed.
All that was left… was Lily.
And Lily had gym class.
He changed quietly, facing the wall. As her fingers slipped out of the school blouse and into the PE shirt, he could feel the tension beneath the skin — a hesitation that ran deeper than modesty.
Ethan never ogled or admired this body. It wasn't his to own.
It was a gift. A life that wasn't meant for him.
And every time he changed clothes, he remembered that — and treated it with care.
He pulled the elastic waistband over her hips, adjusted the sleeves, and took a breath.
When he stepped out of the locker room, conversation stalled for a split second.
Several boys glanced his way — subtle, awkward, but unmistakable. Whispers followed behind them like shadows.
"…Is that Lily-chan?"
"She looks kinda mature in gym clothes…"
"She's pretty in a different way today…"
Ethan didn't look up.
He didn't want their attention.
Not like this.
Not when every glance felt like it should belong to someone else.
"Alright, Group 3 — let's get warmed up!" Coach Tanaka's voice cut through the noise.
Lily jogged to the side of the track and joined the group. Her movements were stiff at first — careful. Ethan could already feel her calves tightening, the familiar protest of muscles still rebuilding strength.
Coach Tanaka gave her a quick glance. He walked over, lowering his clipboard.
"Hey," he said in a low tone, just to her. "Nakamura, right?"
Lily nodded.
"I read your file. I know you're recovering from something serious." His voice wasn't condescending — just steady, grounded. "You don't need to push too hard, alright? It's not a competition."
Ethan looked up at him, surprised.
No one had said anything like that since he arrived.
"…Thank you," he said quietly, using Lily's voice.
Tanaka nodded once. "Go at your pace. I'll be watching."
Then he turned and blew the whistle.
The class took off, feet pounding the track. Lily started slow, her movements tense but focused.
Each step felt heavier than the last. Her breathing came faster, but Ethan kept her steady — one foot, then the next. Not fast. Not smooth.
But moving.
Coach Tanaka occasionally glanced at her from the sideline, eyes sharp — not judging, but attentive. Protective.
By the time the second lap began, Ethan could feel Lily's body screaming. Her legs were stiff. Her back burned. Her throat felt dry and thin like paper.
But she kept going.
Not for them. Not for a grade. For her.
He could still hear Lily's voice in his memory — laughing weakly, asking what running felt like. Now, he knew. And he wasn't going to let her miss it.
When Lily crossed the finish line, her knees hit the track.
Hard.
A few gasps came from behind the cones, but Coach Tanaka was already jogging over.
"Hey. Easy," he said, crouching beside her. "Don't force yourself to stand. You did great."
Lily looked up at him, breath shaking, hair stuck to her cheeks with sweat.
"I… I had to finish," she said.
Tanaka gave her a steady look. "And you did. But next time, let me know how you're doing halfway through. Don't carry the whole weight alone."
Ethan swallowed something bitter and warm inside Lily's chest.
Maybe, in this body, he didn't have to.
Tanaka helped her to the bench. A few students glanced over, whispering again — admiration this time. But Ethan ignored them.
Because for once, he wasn't thinking about what he looked like.
He was thinking about what it meant to move forward.
Even when it hurt.
Even when no one remembered his name.