Divergence / ダイバージェンス

Back in the present day, Natsuko finished narrating her story to me.

“I… didn’t expect something like that.”

What I didn’t notice was that she was crying, attempting to hide it. She got up and began walking away. I tried to stop her, instinctively grabbing her wrist, not wanting her to leave.

“Wait!”

“Let go of me!”, she demanded.

I freed her left arm from my control.

“I'm sorry,” I apologized in a disheartened tone.

“Don't be,” she uttered right before opening the door and leaving.

I had no idea. We’re not alike at all. It’s all my fault. Those were the things I wanted to but couldn’t say.

Sometimes, not knowing is better than knowing. At least then you don’t need to bear the weight of knowledge.

Knowledge is power. I’ve been told that many times in the past. And power, while it can create, can just as easily destroy what it created in the first place. All without batting an eye. It’s up to us to use that power well, never yielding under the weight of it.

I knew that much, but I also knew I owed her some time alone.

I came to terms with the possibility she wouldn’t return and lay on my bed, waiting for my body to finally decide to fall asleep.

When the digital alarm clock marked the arrival of 11 PM, I heard a few consecutive weak noises coming from the door. This time around, however, I was clearly aware of who it was. She had gotten tired of lying on her own bed by herself and wanted some company.

“Come in.”

We went back to the positions we were in before she left the room. Having regained her composure, she restarted the conversation.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Not really. I would’ve done the same in your situation.”

“Natsuko, can I trust you with a secret of my own? I think it’s only fair I tell you more about me, after how much you told me.”

Fair? Yes. But that was only a pretext. In all honesty, I saw her as someone who I could entrust my secret with. Why? I’m unable to pinpoint exactly why. After seeing her in such a fragile state, I wanted to comfort her. “You aren’t alone in this”. Maybe that was where my true intentions lay.

That and my unwillingness to carry the weight of this secret—this knowledge—by myself. Though I had shared it with my parents already, it hadn’t relieved the burden.

Or perhaps it was none of the above and I simply craved attention from her. Again, I couldn’t tell you why.

Either way—

The exchange continued.

“I wasn’t going to ask for anything more in return. But since you’re so keen on equivalent exchange, go ahead. I’ll keep it to myself. That’ll make us even.”

“Okay.”

“So? What’s your important secret?”

That inquisitive look on her face. It was all my fault. I could do nothing but satisfy her desire. Curiosity is inherently part of a human being’s nature. And I had inadvertently triggered it.

“I… I am a transgender girl.”

“…”

Silence took over my bedroom. From what I could deduce, she didn’t see that coming, much like me earlier.

“Do your parents know?”

“Yes, as of two days ago.”

“Got it. So no one else knows besides us, right?”

“About that… Naoto probably knows as well. I did not tell him directly as I did with you right now, but he might have connected the dots and arrived at that conclusion.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… let’s just say I haven’t always been super discreet about it.”

“I see. Naoto Ueno, huh? What is he to you? I barely know anything about him. Though he seemed to be a nice guy.”

“Naoto Ueno was the first friend I made.”

That’s right. I used to be a shy lonely kid with close to no social skills until he chose me to be his friend. Previously, I referred to him as “a stellar student with matching stellar grades”. However, Naoto Ueno wasn't always like that. The same also applies to me. People aren't immune to change. The passage of time and our choices define who we are. Like clay, we are molded by the hands of time, kneaded with each choice we make into the shape we possess at a specific point in time.

Hence began the tale of two friends.

Summer 2014. The hydrangea flowers were blooming. I was inside the classroom, gazing at the landscape from the open window next to me. Even though that wasn’t why I picked this spot, it was an undeniably perfect one to stare at the outside.

The teacher signaled the beginning of her Japanese class.

“Hello, everyone! In today’s class, you’ll practice your Japanese writing with a fantasy composition exercise. For the first time, I’d like to ask you all to start it with an ‘I wish…’. When you finish, you’ll rewrite it, but this next time with better grammar and structure. In case you cannot finish it in this class, you may continue it in the next one. Any doubts?”

“Teacher, are there any limitations regarding the length of the composition?”

“Not any concrete ones, no. Still, I ask you to not make it too short or too long.”

We immediately started brainstorming ideas to eventually pick out the one we enjoyed the most. Amidst our creative process, the female adult among twelve-year-olds expressed curiosity about the premise of our stories.

“Attention, everyone! Stop what you’re doing for now. I want to know how your first sentence looks like. By now, your progress should pinpoint what each of you is going to focus their story on.”

“Eh? That’s evil, teacher. You didn’t tell us about this.”

“Oh, is that so? Then you’ll be the first one to read it out loud, Mikami.”

“Huh? That’s even more evil.”

That was the same student who earlier questioned the teacher about the length of the composition.

“Go ahead, you can read it from your desk.”

“‘I wish I could reincarnate as a slime.’”

“Oh? That’s an interesting one. Can I ask why you chose that though? It’s a pretty unusual choice, I must say.”

“Slimes are very useful, teacher! They possess properties from both liquids and solids, which, in turn, gives them a vast array of uses!”, he justified, sporting an immensely confident outlook.

“I see you’re very knowledgeable in that area. Ok, next one! Ishida, it’s your turn.”

My timid self acknowledged it was her turn.

“Y-Yes. ‘I wish I could reincarnate as a princess in a magical world.’”

Pronouncing those words—it was the first time I realized how oppressive and polluted the very air we breathe could be. I was foolish then, still too young to understand what was and wasn’t viewed as “normal”. In my mind, I failed to see what was wrong. I didn’t know the words “transgender” or any of the neologisms concerning LGBT+ people. I was 12, not old enough to perceive such a statement as abnormal.

Was I in the wrong? Apparently, I was. Because everyone in the class laughed when I read it aloud. But—there was someone who didn’t. A light-grey-haired boy with a contrasting demeanor. Unlike all the other students, he did not find it amusing or worth a laugh. If anything, he was annoyed at the overt stupidity of his colleagues. However, he decided to keep quiet.

Noticing the sudden outburst of noise, the teacher imposed herself to end it.

“Hey, hey, kids! Don't make fun of your classmate. He is free to think how he wants.”

Those phrases were enough to return the typical quietness to the room. Unfortunately, they only put a short-term stop to it—the discrimination.

After that class ended, most of my classmates started making fun of me. I became the object of their jokes, their laughingstock.

“Hey evening princess, sorry to let you down, but I heard men can’t become princesses. It’s a real shame, you know, it’d be wonderful to see you dancing around.”

The one spouting crap was Hiro Irahara, a boy with a rather irritating personality. It wasn’t the first time he made fun of fellow classmates for his own enjoyment.

I ignored him at first.

“Hey, did you hear me, ‘man-princess’? Turn your head over here! I am your prince, come to me already! I hereby request Her Majesty’s presence!”

I walked away from him and what was beginning to feel like his gang members. Predictably, he wasn’t about to let me go my own way yet.

“Ignoring me won’t do you any good! Keep running away, ‘man-princess’. I’ll catch you next time.”

Except for this time. Sadly, this became a frequent ritual on breaks.

When the last morning class ended and everyone went outside to eat lunch, I did my best to ignore everyone and sat far away from the students. That proved to be ineffective, however, as a peculiar classmate noticed me. He did his best to get near me stealthily. Once we were side by side, he patiently waited a bit to see if I’d interrupt my meal to acknowledge him. In the meantime, he started eating as well. Eventually, he got tired of the silence and spoke the first words.

“Hey. My name is Naoto Ueno, nice to meet you.”

I slowly turned my head to face him directly. The image of it permeated my mind. That distinctive light grey hair was hard to forget. Expecting that to be some new way to ridicule me, I tried to push him away.

“What do you want?”

“Seeing you alone, being mocked all the time pisses me off. I’m not here to make fun of you. Just know you’re not alone.”

I received the information and went back to eating.

“Hey, don’t ignore me!”

Upset as he was, taking notice of my ignorance, he began backing away.

“Well, whatev—”

Despite being pretty focused on my lunch, I was aware of his actions. A few seconds later, I finally recognized I needed help and grabbed his arm.

“Wait.”

He smiled, glad I yielded to his request.

“I’m Yuki Ishida. Nice to meet you,” I continued timidly, introducing myself to him briefly.

“Yuki? That’s a really nice name. Want to be friends?”

“Sure.”

“Ahh, that’s a relief. I haven’t made any friends since the school year began. I take it you didn’t either. Everyone is so annoying and dumb. Always following the alpha wolf like sheep.”

I nodded to express agreement with his statement.

“As I told you, it annoys me to no end seeing you kneel before those bastards. I don’t blame you though. So—I’m going to lend you a hand. Say, what did you mean with reincarnating as a princess?”

Being ashamed of how overly sincere I was in class, I attempted to hide my face by turning the other way.

“Ah, I-I’m sorry! Shouldn’t have asked you this straight up. If you prefer to not talk about it, I won’t either. I promise.”

He stretched out his hand, intending to prompt a reaction from me. Hearing his words of respect, I turned my head to look at him in the eyes. I outstretched my own hand to meet his. We banally shook hands.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”, the sunlight shone upon our intertwined hands, “To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you want to be a prince or a princess, if you are a boy or a girl. I don’t care. At the end of the day, you’re still the same person, my friend. Right?”

Those words reverberated throughout my body like gentle sound waves. I slowly shed a few tears, except this time they weren’t out of despair or sadness. I was simply genuinely delighted to have a friend.

I hugged him. My only light in this dark tunnel.

That moment marked the start of my first friendship in junior high school.