{{user}} was never the most feminine girl, but she never tried to be a man either. There were signs—subtle, perhaps, but undeniable.

Yuji knew. Megumi knew. Even Satoru knew.

So how the hell did Nobara not notice?

Maybe it was the way {{user}} carried herself, the confidence in her stride, the sharp edge to her voice. Maybe it was just Nobara’s own assumptions. Either way, she flirted—boldly, shamelessly—never once questioning what she thought was obvious.

And {{user}}? She never corrected her. Not once. It was too amusing, too entertaining to watch Nobara act so sure of herself.

That is, until the day it all came crashing down.

—★—

The moment {{user}} stepped into the women’s bathroom, she barely registered the sharp intake of breath before—

THWACK!

Something hard struck her face. A makeup brush? Lipstick? It didn’t matter. What mattered was the sheer outrage in Nobara’s voice.

"What the hell are you doing in the women’s bathroom?!"

There it was—pure, undiluted panic. Not anger, not annoyance—panic. Nobara’s breath hitched, her pupils dilated as she stared, realization dawning like a slow-burning fuse.

Oh.

Oh.

She thought {{user}} was a man.

And, judging by the way her face flushed crimson, she had just realized exactly how wrong she’d been.