It’s been six years.

  Six long, weird, chaotic years since I woke up in this world as Sophia Kairen—the girl I never asked to become, and yet… here I am, living her life like it was always meant to be mine. I’m twelve now, or at least this body is. Emotionally? Mentally? Somewhere between existential crisis and aggressively tired.

  Kael still sits beside me in class. Still walks home with me. Still tugs nervously at his sleeves when he talks and goes red when I compliment his drawings. That hasn’t changed. What has changed is how I see him.

  I used to think of him as a classmate. Then a friend. Now? Now it feels like I accidentally adopted a shy little woodland creature and no one told me how to give him back.

  He’s still small for his age—skinny arms, messy silver hair, and those wide, nervous green eyes that always glance up at me like I’m something magical or terrifying. Maybe both. And when he smiles, it’s this soft, shy thing that hits me right in the chest like a Quick Attack to the heart.

  He’s just… too damn cute. Too gentle for this world.

  And somehow, that’s become a problem for me.

  I watch him sometimes and think, Ah. So this is why Mom chose Dad.

  Dad, who once cried during a cooking contest finale. Dad, who still kisses Mom goodbye every morning like it’s the first time. Dad, who got Ember the Druddigon to listen to him just by offering her a warm blanket and gentle words.

  I used to think Mom was insane. Why would someone so strong, so dominant, pick someone so… soft?

  Now? I get it.

  I look at Kael, with his hands tucked into his sleeves and his voice trembling when he says my name, and yeah—cute boys are dangerous. They creep in under your defenses and live rent-free in your thoughts.

  But it’s more complicated than that.

  Because I used to be a boy.

  Shido.

  Someone entirely different. Someone who would’ve probably made fun of a kid like Kael for being too timid. Someone who never cried in public, never wore skirts, never caught themselves staring at their reflection wondering who they were becoming.

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  Now? I see Kael and feel this warm, fluttery thing inside me that I don’t fully understand. I still like girls—gods, yes. I’m not blind. But the idea of liking boys too? Of liking him?

  It confuses me. Scares me.

  I haven’t told anyone. Not Mom. Not Dad. Not even Ember, who’s smart enough to notice when I’m not okay but kind enough not to push. Because what would I even say?

  “Hey, I think the universe gender-swapped me and now I’m catching feelings for people I shouldn't be catching feelings for. Also, please don’t perform an exorcism.”

  Nope. Not happening.

  So I stay quiet.

  I bottle it up like some ticking Voltorb and pretend everything’s fine.

  Today, I escape to the beach.

  I always end up here when the noise in my head gets too loud. Our house in Lilycove is close enough that I can walk barefoot, my shoes dangling from my fingertips, sand curling around my toes as the breeze pulls at my hair.

  Ember follows at a distance—quiet, protective. My giant, scaly shadow. She knows I need space but won’t let me be completely alone. She’s the best, really. More of a mom than a Pokémon. Or maybe just the world’s most intense bodyguard.

  I plop down on my favorite patch of sand, right where the waves barely kiss the shore, and hug my knees to my chest. The ocean stretches out in front of me, endless and uncaring, like it couldn’t care less what gender I am or who I like.

  And honestly? That’s kind of comforting.

  I stare at the waves and try to breathe.

  My body’s changing. Puberty, now featuring boobs and cramps and skin that feels like it belongs to someone else. Some days, I look in the mirror and see Sophia. And I like her. I like the way she smiles. I like how her hair curls after a shower. I like the sound of her laugh.

  Other days… I miss Shido. I miss the strength in my old voice, the freedom of moving through the world without being looked at like something fragile or cute or less than. I miss being able to just exist without all these weird expectations slamming into me from every direction.

  I want to be both.

  I want to be neither.

  I don’t know what I want.

  Maybe that’s the worst part—not having answers. Not having control.

  I press my forehead to my knees and sigh.

  “Get it together,” I mutter to myself.

  A shadow falls over me.

  I look up and blink. Kael stands there, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie, his sandals sinking into the sand.

  “Hey,” he says softly.

  Oh no.

  Of course he followed me. Why wouldn’t the universe drop him into the middle of my breakdown?

  “Hey,” I say, trying to force a smile.

  “I—I saw you leave class early,” he says, voice barely louder than the waves. “Are you okay?”

  No. I’m not. I’m falling apart and I want to scream and I think I might like you and I don’t know who I am and I hate this body and love it at the same time.

  “Just needed some air,” I lie, again.

  Kael nods, then sits beside me. Close, but not too close. Like he knows I need space. Like he always does.

  The silence stretches between us, but it’s not awkward. Just quiet. Peaceful. A pocket of calm in the middle of the storm I’ve been carrying.

  After a while, he says, “You’re… really strong, you know?”

  I turn to look at him.

  He’s blushing, staring at the waves like they hold all the answers. “You always know what to say. What to do. I wish I could be more like you.”

  You don’t want to be like me, Kael.

  You don’t want to be this confused, this scared, this broken.

  “You’re fine the way you are,” I say softly.

  He looks at me, eyes wide. “You think so?”

  I nod. “Yeah. I do.”

  He smiles.

  And it hits me again—this warmth, this ache, this terrifying hope that maybe, just maybe, I can figure this out.

  Maybe I can learn to live as Sophia.

  Maybe I can love who I want without needing to explain why.

  Maybe the world doesn’t need to understand me. Maybe it just needs to let me be.

  I glance at the ocean one last time before getting to my feet.

  Kael stands too, brushing sand off his sleeves.

  “Thanks for coming,” I say.

  He shrugs, smiling softly. “You always come for me. I figured it was my turn.”

  And damn it, if that isn’t the most heart-melting thing I’ve ever heard.

  We walk back together, our shadows stretching behind us on the sand, the wind tugging at our clothes.

  Ember trails behind, silent and steady.

  And for the first time in days… I feel okay.

  Not fixed. Not figured out.

  But okay.

  And that’s enough—for now.