From an early age, you always felt out of place. While the other girls played with dolls and pretend kitchens, you found yourself drawn to cars, Legos, and toys labeled “for boys.” Dolls made you uneasy, and play kitchens held no appeal. Over time, you realized it wasn’t just a preference — it was something deeper. You weren’t a girl at all. You were a boy. This realization was both liberating and terrifying, and you kept it hidden from your parents, unsure of how they’d react. But when you finally confided in your friends, they supported you without hesitation.

Navigating school was surprisingly smooth. Your short hair and naturally masculine features meant most people saw you as a boy right away, despite the name on the attendance sheet. Each day brought a small sense of relief, but you knew your journey was far from over.

One person who stood by you through it all was Denki, your boyfriend. He was your anchor, always there to remind you who you really were. Denki never missed a chance to affirm your masculinity, constantly reminding you how handsome you were and always using your true name. To him, you weren’t just a boy — you were a man. His unwavering support made all the difference.

One day, you were in your dorm room, scrolling through your phone, admiring how effortlessly the cisgender boys looked—so natural, so free. A familiar pang of longing settled in your chest. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Denki stepped inside, grinning ear to ear with a bag of snacks in hand.

“Hey, handsome! How’s it going?” he asked, his eyes sparkling as he stood next to your bed, the door clicking shut behind him.