---
Ren had the kind of grin that meant trouble. I should've known the second I saw it.
"Come on," he said, tossing me a cap. "Today, Akira goes public."
I caught the cap but just stared at him. "Public? Ren, I barely survived your landlord yesterday. I almost choked on my own tongue."
He leaned against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world, arms folded. "And you didn't. You passed. Which means you're ready for level two."
"Level two?" I muttered. "What am I, a video game character?"
Ren just smirked. "Exactly. Akira: Beginner Mode. Trial unlocked."
I groaned and tugged the cap over my head anyway. There was no winning against him once he decided on something.
---
The streets felt different when you weren't yourself.
Every step I took outside that morning seemed heavier, like the ground might betray me. The hoodie clung too warmly to my skin, the short hair brushing my neck like an itch I couldn't scratch. I kept tugging the cap lower, praying no one would notice how unnatural I felt in my own body.
Ren, of course, walked beside me like this was a stroll in the park. He even hummed, the traitor.
"You're going to get us caught just by looking guilty," he said.
"I'm not guilty," I whispered.
"Then stop acting like you stole someone's wallet."
I shot him a glare. "Easy for you to say. You've been Ren your whole life. I've been Akira for… two days."
He snickered. "And already a nervous wreck. Don't worry. We're just going to the café where I work. Everyone knows me. They'll assume you're my cousin, exactly like we told Mr. Sato. It's safe."
Safe. The word felt like a thin string trying to hold me together.
---
The café sat on a corner of the shopping street, its sign painted in faded blue letters: Hoshino Coffee House. Bells jingled when we pushed the door open, and the warm smell of roasted beans wrapped around me.
It should've been comforting. It wasn't.
Every eye in the shop seemed to lift and pin me at once. A few regulars glanced over curiously, then returned to their drinks. But to me, it felt like being under a spotlight.
"Relax," Ren murmured as he guided me to a corner table. "Nobody's staring."
"Nobody?" I hissed. "That old lady looked straight at me!"
"She looks at everyone." Ren rolled his eyes. "She's half blind, Aya."
I sank into the chair, pulling my cap lower. "This was a terrible idea."
But Ren just laughed and went off to grab a tray. He worked here part-time, so he moved around like he owned the place, chatting with the barista behind the counter before coming back with two mugs of steaming coffee.
"Here," he said, setting one in front of me. "Akira drinks coffee. Black. No sugar."
I wrinkled my nose. "Aya doesn't."
"Good thing you're not Aya."
Reluctantly, I took a sip. The bitterness hit my tongue like a punch, and I nearly gagged. Ren laughed so hard he almost spilled his cup.
"You look like a five-year-old tasting medicine."
"I hate this disguise already."
"You'll survive."
---
It wasn't long before a co-worker of Ren's—a bubbly girl with a ponytail—came bouncing over.
"Ren! Who's this?" she asked, pointing at me with a bright smile.
My heart plummeted.
"This," Ren said smoothly, "is my cousin, Akira. Just moved here for work."
The girl leaned closer, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Wow, really? He looks shy."
Shy? No, I was dying inside. My voice lodged in my throat, panic clawing up my chest.
Say something. Say anything.
"Uh," I croaked, forcing my voice lower. "Yeah. Just… uh, getting used to the city."
The girl grinned. "Cute! Nice to meet you, Akira!" She waved before skipping off to another table.
The moment she left, I slumped forward, forehead on the table. "Ren. I can't do this."
"You just did."
"I sounded like a broken radio!"
"You sounded like a shy boy. Which, conveniently, is what you're supposed to be."
I groaned.
---
We stayed longer than I wanted. Ren insisted it was good practice—drinking in public, nodding to strangers, answering small questions without panicking. Every second felt like walking on glass.
But something strange happened as the minutes ticked by.
No one pointed. No one laughed. No one whispered, She's not a boy.
People just… accepted it.
The barista handed me my drink and said, "Here you go, sir." A group of students brushed past our table, barely sparing me a glance. Even the old lady Ren teased me about shuffled out without a second look.
For the first time in days, I breathed without the knot in my chest.
When we finally left, the cool air outside felt like release. I tilted my face up toward the cloudy sky, exhaling slowly.
Ren bumped his shoulder against mine. "See? You lived."
"Barely."
"But you did. And you were great."
I glanced at him, doubtful. "Great?"
He nodded. "If I didn't know the truth, I'd believe you. You don't give yourself enough credit, Aya."
Something inside me warmed, just a little.
---
We walked back in comfortable silence, but my mind kept spinning.
Wearing Akira outside… it was terrifying. My heart had been in my throat the whole time. But there was something else too, something I hadn't expected.
For those few hours, nobody had judged me for being Aya, the runaway daughter, the girl who quit her job and disappointed her family. They hadn't looked at me with pity or scorn. They had just… seen me.
Akira.
It wasn't real. I knew that. It was a mask. But maybe Ren was right—maybe this mask could be a shield until I was strong enough to stand without one.
Still, as I glanced at Ren walking beside me, humming softly like nothing in the world could shake him, I wondered how long I could really keep this up.
Four months felt like forever.
And I had no idea yet that forever was exactly how tangled things were about to get.
--
---