This Is Getting Overcomplicated, Isn’t It?

Tsukihito woke up late. 

Sunlight streamed through the curtains in bright stripes, falling across the floor and bouncing off the edge of his desk. The apartment was quiet, broken only by the low hum of the fridge. 

The pendant lay there on the desk, small and faintly shining. He stared at it for a moment, then picked it up and tucked it carefully under his shirt.

Breakfast waited: cold rice and a fried egg. Aunt Saeko moved around the kitchen quietly, humming softly as she stirred the soup, flipped the egg, and wiped the counter. "Good morning!"

Tsukihito ate slowly, staring out the window at the quiet streets below. A car passed. A cat darted across the alley. Everything felt ordinary. Nothing urgent.

"Good morning, Auntie."

He grabbed his bag, textbooks, gym clothes, water bottle, adjusted the strap over his shoulder, and felt the pendant pressing against his chest.

School was normal. Mr. Kitagawa cracked a joke about anime during math. A few students laughed; some stared blankly. Tsukihito nodded along and waited for the bell.

After the last class, he said goodbye to Hiro and Masaki, who were laughing at something on Hiro’s phone. Tsukihito nodded absentmindedly, keeping his focus on his bag. The two main gyms upstairs. 

The stairway was quiet, only faint echoes of distant footsteps and murmurs from other students. He started slow, one step at a time, feeling the railing cool under his hand. Then faster. Two steps at a time, running through drills in his head: layups, passes, dribbling. He imagined the court, the ball in his hands, the coach’s whistle, and tried to ignore the pendant pressing against him.

A landing. He paused, gripping the railing. The gym above was alive with sneakers squeaking, balls bouncing, voices carrying faintly. He adjusted the strap of his bag. A draft carried the faint smell of sweat and polish down the stairwell.

One more flight. He pushed himself, step after step, careful, controlled.

Then his foot caught the edge of a step. Panic snapped in his chest. He grabbed the railing. The pendant slipped out, clinking against the metal.

Click.

A tingle ran through his chest. Hair fell over his shoulders. He stumbled, landing awkwardly.He looked down. His body was smaller. Slimmer. Softer.He froze. Heart hammering, legs shaking. He pressed a hand against the wall, trying to steady himself. His bag felt impossibly heavy. Thoughts raced, maybe run home, hide, never leave the apartment again.

Then he looked at the gym door above. Sneakers squeaking. The coach’s whistle. Maybe… maybe he could still try out.

He pushed open the door to the boys’ gym.

Immediately, everything stopped. Sneakers squeaked in silence, balls froze midair. All eyes turned to her.

She froze. Heart hammering.A few boys whispered:“Whoa… she’s really cute.”“Yeah, look at her… wearing a boy’s uniform… but still looks amazing.”“Is she new?”

Tsukihito adjusted the blazer. It hung a little loose. He tugged at the tie, trying to act normal. The boys stared—some shuffled awkwardly, some leaned against the wall.

He cleared his throat, voice slightly higher than usual.“Uh… I want to try out for basketball,” he said softly.

The coach looked him over, frowning.

“Right now? You’re… ah. Not what I expected.”“Uh… I mean-”“Go upstairs,” the coach said, pointing to the other gym. “Girls’ tryouts are happening. You’ll be fine.”Tsukihito blinked. “…What?”“Just go. Don’t waste my time.”He didn’t argue. He trudged upstairs. 

Each step felt heavier. The gym smelled faintly of sweat and polish.

The girls were stretching, talking, shooting around. A manager held a clipboard.“Tryouts?” she asked.“…Yeah,” Tsukihito said quietly.He stepped onto the court. The floor felt normal. The ball felt normal.He ran drills slowly, dribbling, passing, shooting. Everything worked. Everything felt… fine.The girls’ coach clapped.“You’ve got really good awareness.

Reminds me a lot of… Tsukishima from the boys’ team. We’ll put you on the team.”

Tsukihito froze. His stomach sank. His face heated.Some girls whispered angrily:“Wait, what? His name is Tsukihito!”“No, it’s definitely Tsukihito Kisaragi!”“Why does she call him Tsukishima?”Panic surged. Thoughts of bolting flashed. Then a familiar voice called from the back.“Hey… what’s your name?”His mind blanked. He blurted louder than he meant to:“Ar-Arakuri Kisaragi!”A few girls gasped. The coach raised an eyebrow.“Arakuri Kisaragi?”Tsukihito nodded quickly, hands shaking.The whistle blew. Practice ended. He didn’t wait, he grabbed his bag and ran for the stairs.Halfway down, his foot caught again. He tumbled. The pendant slipped.

Click.

The tingle ran. Hair fell back. His body returned to normal.He sat on the last step for a second, catching his breath. Heart racing. But okay. He could try out for the boys’ team. 

Finally.

He ran down the stairs. Sneakers squeaked, balls bounced.“Late!” Hiro called.“Got held up,” Tsukihito said calmly.The coach tossed him a ball.“Trying out or watching?”“Trying out,” he said. Dribbled, ran, shot, passed. Movements smooth, focused.Practice ended. Coach called names:“…Tsukihito Kisaragi.”Hiro cheered. “Knew it!”Two teams. Two uniforms. Two practices.He looked at the pendant, tiny button glinting.“…This is going to be complicated,” he muttered.

After practice, Tsukihito walked Kiyuri home. She chattered about the day, about Mr. Kitagawa recommending yet another anime, about how chaotic the first week felt. He nodded, mostly quiet, adrenaline still lingering.

When they reached her house, she waved.“See you tomorrow.”“Yeah,” Tsukihito replied, adjusting his bag.Home again. Quiet. He dropped his bag on the desk, letting out a long sigh. The pendant was tucked safely under his shirt.

Opening his backpack, he noticed something odd in the smaller compartment. One he sometimes used for extra papers. Neatly folded, there was a female school uniform. On top, a small note:

"The boy’s uniforms look cute. But maybe you should try to fit in more! – Momo Utakate"

He froze. Utakate… that soft voice from the first time he’d transformed, quietly sitting in the storage room. He held the note, a small, strange smile tugging at his lips. He placed the uniform carefully on the bed. Everything felt calm. But the pendant’s little button caught the light, glinting faintly.

“This is getting overcomplicated, isn’t it?”