Himitsukichi

People tend to get sick during the winter. It’s rarely anything more serious than a flu. Outsiders tend to accuse HOME of having too many strict laws, but we don’t criminalize nor demonize getting ill in the same way LOVERS do. The development of modern medicine was miraculous at the beginning but gradually caused more problems with society. There is of course nothing wrong with wanting to heal the sick, but people of the old world became paranoid of random illnesses and no longer trusted their immune systems.

This was caused by propaganda from pharmaceutical companies (whose owners would end up becoming members of the elite and government of LOVE) that lied to people and told them that getting ill was a failure of morality, that getting someone else ill was to make you no different than a murderer, that you needed to replace God with toxic pills and vaccines. This worship of poisonous modern medicine was a major factor in the end of the Old World.

Then the lies about the so-called ‘deadly spores’ was pushed by governments worldwide. This lie was used to forcefully lock people in their homes, forced to cover their entire faces and bodies when outside, and use them as guinea pigs to try out whatever pills or injections that scientists had come up with. Human beings naturally have no morals, which is why they cling to moral leaders in order to decide what’s ‘right’ and what’s ‘wrong’. Where I live, we use God as our moral leader, to LOVERS and their precursors, ‘science’ was their moral leader.

That’s why as the world was fracturing, the people who would become the first LOVERS were more than happy to follow the illogical lies about the ‘deadly spores’ and got great satisfaction out of persecuting those who even so much as mildly questioned things. It only got worse as LOVE was formed, refusing monthly ‘medicine treatments’ from the government could cause you to lose LOVE POINTS. I remember Mr. C once told me that when people get sick in LOVE, tests will be done in the residential tower to see who gave them their illness, and the culprit will have LOVE POINTS reduced, even if the culprit was mere asymptomatic at the time. Indeed, merely existing as a human being in LOVE means you’re always at risk for losing LOVE POINTS

Thankfully I wasn’t born in LOVE. Although I may have my struggles here, people from HOME at least understand that getting sick is a part of human life. Catching someone else’s cold isn’t the end of the world, and we would only ever get mad at someone for making us sick if they say, coughed or sneezed in our direction on purpose. You are not a bad person for getting ill, nor are you deserving of mockery, hatred, or persecution for not wanting to deal with poisonous modern medicine. That’s why I hold no resentment towards the person who gave me this illness, whoever they are. It is unpleasant though, I’ve been vomiting an awful lot, and my feverish body is making me sweat like it’s the middle of summer.

“Poor Marco…”

Erica and Isabella are standing by my bed. Isabella places an empty bucket by the bed. It’s the bucket I’d been vomiting in and she just finished washing it. She’s been acting as a nurse for me, and I should really return the favor once I’m healthy again.

“It looks like he’s going to miss Christmas mass.”

It’s Christmas Eve and my family is dressed up for church. Christmas mass is always one of the biggest events of the year, and even those who usually skip Sunday mass attend the Christmas mass. Not only that, but even though the mass is at midnight, my family are leaving in the early evening to visit with family friends and other relatives. My absence will be noticed, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

“…Thanks for taking care of me. Be sure to give grandma and grandpa my regards when you see them.”

I speak to my sisters while sitting up in bed.

“Mother made you a bowl of tomato soup you can have if you get hungry.”

My parents and Dina enter the room to give their goodbyes.

“You’ve been working hard this winter…Looks like it was a bit too much for your body. Be sure to rest up!”

Father seems to be the most relaxed out of everyone. He’s the kind of man who sees exhaustion as a sign of working hard, so he probably thinks I’ve earned my rest. I’d prefer it if I could rest without vomiting and sweating so much though.

“We’re heading out now. We’ll be home late. You just rest now.”

My mother lays a wet cloth on my face as she gives her goodbyes. I close my eyes to rest more as I hear the sound of my family’s footsteps and them leaving the house I shift around for a bit trying to sleep, but it’s just not coming so I decide to get out of bed. I feel so sweaty and disgusting. I really want to take a bath, but walking to the bath house in this weather is a terrible idea. Well…nobody will be home for a while, so I could probably take my pajamas off for a bit. I hesitantly remove my pajama shirt and trousers. Despite knowing that nobody’s going to be home in a while I still can’t help but feel nervous. I mentally tell myself I’ll be fine and that it’s not wrong because I’ll still be leaving my undergarments on.

After the shirt and trousers are off, I lay them on my bed, and I can feel a slight coolness against my sweaty body. It feels nice. Right, mom made me tomato soup for dinner? Sounds good, and it’s been a while since I last vomited so I may be okay as long as I don’t eat it too fast. I walk slowly out of my room and towards the dining room, still feeling nervous about someone possibly walking in on me. Even if I’m not naked, it’d be a real problem if Dina or Erica saw me like this. The house is silent and filled with only the sounds of me sitting myself down and eating soup. The silence of the house leaves me alone with my thoughts.

My mind is a bit foggy, but it’s much clearer than it was yesterday. In an odd way, getting ill like this has given me a break from the general grind of life…and thinking about how I’ll have to return back to that grind once I feel better. No matter how much effort I put into being with Gloria, my friends, or working at the shop, I still feel unhappy deep down inside. I still have those weird thoughts of what life would be like if I were a woman, or if I had been born in the old world. Most disturbingly, I’m beginning to have thoughts of ‘what if I’d been born in the territories or LOVE?’. I know there are a lot of problems with LOVE are and the territories, but surely some of it is exaggerated for propaganda?

I understand that LOVE is a society that forces propaganda onto its people, but how can the people of my home state, if not the entirety of HOME, be so certain that there’s absolutely no propaganda forced onto us either? I remember my interactions with Mr. C. We had our disagreements, but we got along and I liked hearing his stories. But somehow me interacting with him was a problem because he’s a Jew? Everyone here is so proud of being Italian, but we don’t even live in Italy can’t ever visit Italy, and we’re all just okay with that? Is modern technology really the one reason why society went downhill? Could my teachers have been exaggerating their claims about LOVE?

“…”

I of course can’t talk about these thoughts to anyone, not even at confessional. Talking to Elliot about them would most likely just make my thoughts worse. I fear that my problems have extended beyond my struggles with masculinity.

“…I need to do something about this…”

I mumble to no one in particular as I finish my soup and put the dishes away. The soup was only room temperature when I ate it, and I can feel the foolishness of my decision to strip my clothes off as the cold of the winter makes me shiver. I should get redressed and head back to bed. As I head back to my bedroom, I see the door to the bedroom of my sisters slightly ajar. I should probably close it. I walk up to the door to close it, but I stop when I get a look inside my sisters’ room.

There are three bedrooms in my house. One for my parents, one for the daughters, and one for the sons. Since I’m the only son in the house, that means my bedroom has always been exclusively for me. When I was child, I would visit my sisters in their bedroom fairly often to play with them. This habit eventually stopped when I realized that being with my sisters so often made me too feminine, so it’s been a while since I was last inside this room. The most major change I notice are Dina and Erica’s beds. The last time I was here, those two were toddlers who were too small for regular beds. I do remember when carpenters were called in to make their regular sized beds though.

There are three beds (one average, and one bunk bed), a closet, two desk drawers, a vanity table with a mirror, a bookshelf, and a toy chest. It’s pretty obvious that Isabella sleeps in the normal bed in the left side of the room whereas the younger girls sleep in the bunk bed on the right side of the room. Looking at the bunk bed, I can even tell that Erica sleeps on the bottom bunk while Dina sleeps on the top bunk as the stuffed rabbit that Erica’s had ever since she was an infant is lying on the bottom bunk. I decide to walk over to the vanity table.

There’s a silver necklace lying on it. This is a necklace that Isabella got for her 16th birthday. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s a gift that she’s always cherished, although she doesn’t wear it very often, most likely because she doesn’t want to risk ruining it. On the rare occasions Isabella wears this necklace, it always looks so lovely on her. I’ve always been envious on how women can wear nice things when men can wear no more than their wedding rings.

I want to try on Isabella’s necklace. It’s not a big deal, right? I know I shouldn’t, but everyone’s out of the house and they won’t be back until late. I’ll just do it tonight, and I’ll never do it again, no harm will be done if it’s just a little thing.

But that’s what I said about the camisole too…

Without thinking I sit myself down at the vanity desk, pick up the necklace, and clasp it around my neck. It looks well…It’s still a nice looking necklace, but it doesn’t look good on a sickly teenage boy at all. I go back to my room to fish out the camisole from the latest hiding spot I had it in, and look in my bedroom mirror.

“…Ugh…”

I still have nothing covering my undergarments. I don’t look like a lady at all. I would need to wear one of Isabella’s dresses to-

Wait, what am I doing? The camisole was already problem enough, now I’m wearing my sister’s special necklace too. Why am I even considering wearing one of her dresses!?

“…”

I walk back to my sisters’ room. Right, I need to take this necklace off, take the camisole off, put my pajamas back on and get back to bed. My illness is making me act strange, and I need to stop. But despite thinking that, despite knowing that, I feel the urge to look through the closet by Isabella’s bed. I should ignore this urge, but I guess my fogged up mind made me walk towards the closet door and open it. Inside are all of Isabella’s clothes. All the clothes that she wore as a child were handed down to Dina and Erica. I can see all of her dresses, shirts, skirts, stockings, and undergarments hanging in the closet, and her shoes neatly laid on the floor of it.

I can feel my heart beating hard. I’m about to do something terrible. Something that I will have to take to the grave with me. I could stop. I should stop. But I’m not. I step into the closet and examine my older sister’s clothing with fascination. There’s a light blue dress with white frills that catches my attention. It’s fine. Nobody will be home for a long time, as long as I only do this for tonight and never again, I can be forgiven. With that in mind I carefully pull the skirt off its hanger and uneasily start dressing myself. I struggle a little, but it doesn’t take too long for me to get the dress on. Like the camisole, it’s a bit loose in the chest area, but it otherwise seems to fit me okay. I step out of the closet to look at myself in the vanity mirror.

I look…okay? Well, I suppose I’m still sickly, I don’t have a feminine haircut, and I obviously lack any breasts. But I don’t think I look too terrible. Maybe it’s the illness talking, but I can’t help but like I could make for a pretty looking girl with enough effort. I’ll let myself stay in this dress for a few minutes before changing back into my normal clothes.

“…!?…?!…”

I suddenly hear voices coming from outside. Who’s out there? Nobody should be visiting us tonight. Is it thieves? Damn, I can’t have anyone see me dressed like this, but if it’s thieves then I need to find something to fight them with. I leave the girls’ room, and head to the kitchen to find father’s gun.

“…Dina it’s okay, you’re just sick…”

As the voices get closer, I hear the clear sound of my mother’s voice, and my blood runs cold. I need to run, but I can’t. But even if I could run, there’s no way I’d have the time to hide in the few seconds before my family opens the door, so I stay frozen. And the door opens.

“Let’s get you to bed…”

My family is standing at the front door staring at me. Mother is helping keep Dina steady, whose dress is disheveled and has vomit stains on it. I see. Dina caught my illness and everyonehad to return home early because of that, and now they’ve walked in on me dressed in Isabella’s clothes. My father is first person to react.

“Marco…What the hell are you doing?”

He looks confused. I don’t blame him.

“…”

I have no response. There is no excuse that could save me here, not even “My illness was making me act strange” would work because…what illness has ever caused someone to cross dress in their sister’s clothes? I keep standing there frozen. Isabella steps into the house, her face looking more and more distressed as she gets closer to me.

“Marco…Why are you wearing my necklace?”

Again, I can’t respond. “Because I wanted to” may be the truth, but it’s terrible to say.

“You stole your sister’s necklace!?”

Now father’s mad. He storms up to me and grabs me by the collar of the dress. The camisole underneath the dress becomes visible to both him and Isabella. Isabella’s eyes widen.

“That’s…That’s the camisole I thought I lost…You…You stole it!?”

Isabella’s face contorts into that of someone who feels betrayed. I can hear mother hurriedly shuffling the younger girls to their bedroom. Father is now looking at me with fury in his eyes.

“You…You stole your sister’s clothing so you could dress up like a pervert!? You piece of shit!”

Father punches me in the face. He may not be the strongest man out there but working a farm means that he has a decent strength, and I know I’m going to get a black eye from that. He then punches me in the stomach, which hurts far more than the punch to the face, and I end up coughing up some stomach bile from it.

“F-Father, please stop.”

Isabella tries to place herself between the both of us, which manages to distract father for a bit.

“Don’t you care that your brother is a thief and a pervert!?”

“I do care, but you know Dina and Erica can hear this commotion in our room and it’s going to upset them!”

Isabella isn’t one to talk back to our parents, but she’s not backing down and stares into father’s eyes. After what feels like half a minute of staring, father relents and releases me from his grip.

“…Fine, you deal with him. I’m going for a walk.”

He leaves the two of us alone and storms out the house. Only Isabella and me are left at the entrance of the house. Her gaze turns to me.

“Take off everything that isn’t yours Marco.”

Her voice is cold with no emotion. I do as she says and remove the necklace, dress, and camisole. She then takes the bundle of clothing from me. The face Isabella gives to me is one of deep emotional pain. Seeing that face hurts me far more than any of father’s punches did.

“…Why did you do this?”

Tears are forming in her eyes as she asks me. Even though I know there’s no good answer to this question, I have to be honest.

“I…”

But how do I explain everything?

“…I wanted to feel like a woman.”

That was the best explanation I could give. Isabella gives no response to that answer, nor does her facial expression change. She just silently walks off with her clothes in hand, leaving me alone, with the understanding that my life is never going to be the same again.

Author’s Note: So, I’m just gonna stop making promises on when chapters are released because even without writer’s block I still suck at releasing chapters in a reasonable fucking time. I should really work on that next year. Not much more to say about this chapter beyond DRAMA.

“So, what is this amazing thing you want to show us?”

Roberto has led us out to the forest. I hope this isn’t another dead animal.

“…I, I think I came across some high end tech.”

Alright, he has my attention. There’s just a random piece of illegal technology in the woods somewhere? Granted, it’s probably just a cellphone with a dead battery, but I still can’t help but feel curious. We walk around for several more minutes before Roberto suddenly runs up and points at the bottom of a tree.

“Right here. Look!”

The rest of us head over to Roberto’s location and look down. There’s a small modern looking black box. I can only presume that what Roberto wants to show us is inside the box.

“Here we go…”

Roberto lifts the cover of the box and then stands back up.

“…I think it’s some kind of modern camera.”

Looking inside I can see that yes, there is a small yellow digital camera lying on the ground.

“…Wow…”

Francesco leans in to get a better look. It’s nowhere near the level of the high tech phones you’d see in LOVE, but it’s still illegal foreign technology.

“How did this get here?”

Paolo puts his hand to his chin while asking. It’s a good question.

“Well, technology hasn’t always been illegal in HOME…”

I give out a random guess. Perhaps this is just an old relic of back before all states in HOME decided to ban all technology.

“Don’t ‘modern’ people use phones to take pictures? Why have a camera?”

“I think that’s a LOVE thing, I’ve had PearlCoin guys tell me that people in the territories don’t have all the fancy technology that LOVE does.”

As Paolo and I talk Francesco bends down to pick up the camera before Roberto smacks his hand.

“Don’t touch it idiot! We’ll get in trouble.”

He is right, we would be in severe trouble if anyone caught us holding on to this forbidden technology. Yet despite that, all four of us continue to stay where we are, staring at the camera with fascination.

“These…these are the kind of cameras where the pictures are immediately developed, right?”

“…Pretty sure they are, yeah…”

Francesco asks a simple question, and I offer a simple reply. I don’t know how much we spent looking at that camera, but it felt like hours.

“…It’s getting late, let’s head home.”

Paolo’s always the one who knows when it’s time for everyone to head home. We all nod our heads, and Roberto closes the box he opened before we leave the forest. Once we arrive back at the main town roads, we all give our goodbyes.

“See you later.”

“Bye!”

“It was nice hanging out again Marco!”

“Great seeing you all again too!”

I watch my friends as they walk off. As soon as they’re out of sight, I go back into the forest. I briskly walk as I try to recall the path that Roberto led us on. I don’t know what’s overcome me, but I feel an intense curiosity about that camera. I’m not going to take it home like an idiot of course, but I just want to know what immediately fully developed photos look like. But then again, will the camera even work? It was inside a sturdy looking box, so I doubt the weather’s affected it too much, but what if the batteries are dead? Then again, if the camera doesn’t work, then I suppose that’ll be God’s punishment for wanting to break rules.

It doesn’t take long for me to return to the box. Even though there’s no one nearby, I still look around as if I’m checking for people. Well, you can never be too careful when you’re breaking the law. There’s nobody around, and it’s doubtful anyone will come around here soon, so I kneel down by the black box and take the lid off. I slowly pick the camera up, as if it had thorns. Now…I know with digital cameras you can look at the pictures inside them if you press a certain button. I guess I’ll just press every button I see and if nothing happens then-

Suddenly, a picture shows up. I see, the camera is working. I guess that means the Lord is fine with me sinning in this manner then. The photo that shows up seems to be of a family in skimpy swimwear (well, skimpy by HOME standards anyways) at a uh…I believe this is a beach, right? There’s lots of sand by the water and there are ither people in the background with swimsuits too. The family seems to consist of a father, mother, and their two children, one boy and one girl. The boy seems to be a bit older than the girl. The father and mother are holding hands while the son and daughter are kneeled down by some sand building that I guess they made?

I flip to the next photo in the camera. This time it’s of the same family standing in front of a Christmas tree dressed in strange Christmas and winter themed sweaters. The children are joyously holding their Christmas presents. The daughter is holding a stuffed kitten toy, and the son is showing off what seems to be something for modern video games. The photo after that shows the family outdoors with a small puppy playing with the kids. I continue to flip through the photos, seeing the life story of this family contained in these photos. I see the small puppy gradually grow bigger into a mature dog, the children maturing and entering puberty, and the parents beginning to grow wrinkles and gray hair.

I see the children go through school graduations, birthday parties, school contests, and making friends. I see some other reoccurring adults and kids that I presume are uncles, aunts, and cousins. I see photos of the family in the snow, rain, and sunshine. The story of this family unfurls for me as I continue to examine the photos.

One photo stands out to me in particular. It’s of the daughter as a teenager wearing a beautiful pale blue dress standing with a young man wearing a tuxedo. They’re standing underneath a banner reading “Greenwood High Senior Prom 2019”. I remember Mr. C mentioning these prom events before to me. I guess high schools in the modern world like to have a special event for students where they dress nicely and romance other students. Schools encouraging courtship strikes me as odd, but the world outside of HOME being strange is nothing new to me.

There are several photos of the daughter and her lover at the prom, and I can’t help but be fascinated by the daughter. She’s nothing like how my teachers describe how women behaved before HOME came to fruition. Growing up, I was educated on how terrible women became before HOME and how terrible they are outside of HOME. How they’re all promiscuous abrasive harpies whose bad behavior was encouraged by secularism and moving away from God. How trying to fit into men’s roles made women neurotic and barely able to function without the help of being coddled by cultural leaders. How birth control made women selfish and destroyed world-wide birth rates. How they would cake themselves in makeup as a way to fool men into being used.

Now sure, I’m only looking at photos. I don’t know the personalities and history of any of these people beyond what I can in said photos. But just looking through the photos, I didn’t get a sense of this girl being the kind of modern woman that’s often derided in HOME. She just seemed like a nice girl who liked her family, liked animals and nail art, and really didn’t strike me as promiscuous in the least.

She also didn’t wear makeup in most of the photos, only on special occasions, and she didn’t seem to cake herself up in it either. I keep going back to the prom photo. The daughter…I think one of the birthday photos said her name Marisa? Yes, Marisa looks stunning in her prom photo. But I’m not falling in love with her, she’s just a person in photos after all. It’s moreso how…’familiar’ she looks. She looks like she could be one of my sisters, or a relative of mine or…

‘Do you hate that you were born a man?’

…Or a female version of me. That weird question Elliot asks pops up in my head. I scoffed at it before, but now it’s seeming a bit less ridiculous. I don’t really know how to process or describe my current feelings. All I know is that this old world family looked happy. The daughter looked like she was me from another universe. I think I should put the camera back in the box. Why the hell is this box out here anyway? I can only guess that the family in the photos used to live in this area before the end of the old world, and somehow, despite the modern technology ban leading to all modern technology in HOME being destroyed, I guess the authorities missed a few items.

I hastily put the camera back in the box and leave the forest. Looking at those photos was a mistake; I spent the entirety of my walk back home thinking about what life would be like had I been born female or born in the old world or LOVE or one of the territories. Things I really shouldn’t be thinking about at all. Then my thoughts changed to that of Eve and the forbidden fruit. Right, by looking through that camera, I fear that I’ve crossed a line and can never go back to normalcy. But perhaps I’m overthinking. I’ve always been the type of person to overthink things.

“Honey? Is something the matter?”

When I arrive back home, my mother immediately notices that something’s off.

“Oh, nothing…I was just out with friends and I’m a little tired now. It’s nothing to worry about.”

I guess I was making a strange face if my mother was showing concern. I just waive off her concerns and head to my bedroom. I’m probably just overwhelmed. That was my first (and possibly only) time I’ve ever physically handled a digital camera. Not only that, but I also got to view photos of regular people from the old world on it. Getting to experience such advanced technology in one afternoon would overwhelm anybody. My mind will go back to normal in a few days. I lie on my bed, unable to keep those pictures out of my head. Most disturbingly, I keep having thoughts about myself as a woman. About the weird question Elliot asked me before.

I got up to go get the camisole. I currently have it placed in a drawer on my desk. I know, I’ve been trying to avoid going back to it, but I just want to confirm one thing. I unbutton the long-sleeved shirt I’m currently wearing and take the camisole out and put it on. I then go to pick up a small hand mirror on my desk and examine myself with it.

I’ve never actually gotten a good look at myself wearing the camisole before. I hold the mirror at a good enough distance to see my whole upper body and…I don’t look as grotesque in the camisole as I always thought I did. It’s probably because I’m not very muscular, I shave my facial hair regularly, and the body hair I have is rather thin, so it’s not too noticeable for the most part. I’ve always been kind of effeminate looking throughout my life, which is probably another reason I used to be picked on as a child.

…Was I meant to be born a woman? If that’s the case, why was I born a man? The best that I can theorize is that the lord know that life has no meaning if there’s no struggle and well…this is the struggle the lord decided to give me. Given the existence of transgenders in other societies, I’m clearly not the only one with this type of struggle. Of course, in societies such as LOVE, they’re more visible due to how much LOVE feeds into their delusions. The attitude towards transgenders is more varied in the territories, mostly because there’s no access to the advanced sex change surgeries that LOVE has. The lack of being able to physically change their bodies makes their delusions far more obvious in the territories.

Right, I shouldn’t feed into any possible delusions about ‘becoming a woman’. I struggle with my masculinity and feel more comfortable around women. It’s because of that there’s this nagging part of my brain that thinks ‘I should’ve been born a woman’. But that’s nothing more than mere delusion. I’ve never experienced life as a woman, so there’s no way in hell that I could even know that I’m actually supposed to be a woman. I guess the next time I meet Elliot, I can talk more about this with him, but I’ll have to make it clear to him that I will refuse any sort of coddling or any ‘just accept yourself and become a woman’ nonsense.

I continued to meet with my friends over the week, and while we had fun, I couldn’t shake off the nagging feelings of those photos. The beautiful and happy Marisa with her family and friends. How the people in those photos lived lives completely different from mine and yet didn’t feel that strange or foreign despite that. How I wanted to learn more about the old world, and all the modern technology that’s banned in HOME. How I can’t tell my friends or family about these thoughts. I can’t even go to confession either, because priests are required by law to break the seal of confession if someone confesses to using modern technology.

Before I knew it, the week had gone by and I didn’t feel better. Sure, I got to bond with my friends for a bit but…that’s it. I don’t feel any better, and thanks to those photos I looked through, I feel even worse. The thoughts about me as a woman won’t go away. I even engaged in some thought experiments about it. During a bath one night, I decided to pretend that my naked body was a woman’s and not a man’s. That I had breasts and a vagina. And it actually worked…At least when I wasn’t looking down. I thought about the roles of men and women in society and how I don’t want to be a housewife, but it would be nice to have a woman’s body.

I ultimately didn’t bring things up to Elliot again. I put even more focus on school, my friends, family, and Gloria in order to distract myself from the thoughts. But whenever I was alone in my room at night, they would always come back. What if I’d been born a woman? Well, I’d be treated the same as my sisters and father would probably be pushing Isabella and me hard to find good husbands to help take over the farm. Right, I would no longer have the responsibility as being ‘the next man of the house’, and I wondered if maybe that was the source of all my anxiety. But then I went to go urinate and remembered the deep discomfort I always feel when looking at my genitals.

Despite the stress, autumn managed to pass by, and winter had arrived. Just because there are no crops to grow in winter doesn’t mean my family isn’t busy. Father, mother, and Isabella like to do odd jobs for other businesses nearby. When school was let out for Christmas break, father had me work on odd jobs as well because I’m at that age. They’re nothing too complicated, usually just helping out with cleaning, or helping sell items at stores.

Christmas is coming, and although the weather’s cold, the atmosphere feels warm. It’s a time for family and remembering what matters the most in the world. It’s said that Christmas in the modern world is nothing more than an abomination of crass commercialism. I think back to the photos I saw, specifically the Christmas ones. It’s true that Christmas stopped being a celebration of Christ in the modern world, and there’s a far bigger focus on ‘giving presents’ and yet…Marisa’s family did seem to exude a happy loving atmosphere in their Christmas photos.

I’m currently helping out Gloria’s family by working at their shoe store. Specifically, I’m helping with making shoes in the back of the store. It’s a somewhat tedious task, but it’s not too difficult and it can help me get on friendly terms with Gloria’s family. Gloria isn’t around a lot as she’s helping the church choir prepare for Christmas mass. This has given me some time to bond with her parents, to the point where they’ve even invited me to dinner a few times.

“You’ve been so wonderful to our daughter Marco.”

Her mother compliments me during one dinner.

“We were never able to bear more children beyond her, so it’s always been of the utmost importance to us that Gloria gets a husband that treats her well.”

Gloria’s father joins in on the conversation. Evidently her parents always struggled with fertility. Despite leading healthy lives and never drinking or smoking, Gloria’s parents had gone through five pregnancies with four of them leading to tragic miscarriages. Needless to say, Gloria being born was seen as a miracle by her parents. It honestly makes me feel bad that they like me so much. I think their daughter deserves someone who doesn’t fantasize about being a woman.

“She’s a kind girl; you’ve raised her well.”

Of course I’m not stupid enough to reject compliments. Even if I feel that her family is making a grave mistake by entrusting me to their daughter.

Throughout the month, things managed to continue to be peaceful (even with my troublesome thoughts and burdensome camisole habit).

But then Christmas Eve came…and my life changed forever.

Author’s Note: So yeah, I think it should obvious now, but this arc is the origin and backstory for the dead Marisa. And yes I’m going to be delving into issues and controversies related to transgenderism which will certainly be…something. I’ll just say that my opinions on the subject would piss off both sides of the debate and leave it at that. I was originally planning this arc to be much shorter, but it looks like that’s not the case. On the bright side, I can feel my writer’s block starting to clear away somewhat, and I’m hoping that I can start getting a more regular schedule with publishing chapters.