Kaido had always felt a strange, quiet curiosity tugging at him. Women’s clothing—soft, stylish, pretty—kept catching his eye. He’d look at his reflection sometimes, noticing his short height, his slim frame, the way his features leaned just a little bit toward the delicate side. “Twink-ish,” he once muttered, immediately shaking the thought away. “That’s silly… completely silly.”

But the curiosity refused to die. It only grew stronger.

So one afternoon, when the house was quiet and temptation finally won its long battle, Kaido caved. He pulled out an outfit he’d secretly put together over time: a black long-sleeved crop top, a short pleated plaid mini skirt in black and white, ripped black tights, and black boots with white laces that looked almost too cool for him. Or so he thought.

When he put it all on and stepped in front of the mirror, his breath caught. His cheeks heated instantly, the tips of his ears going red. But… his smile? That came naturally. “…It doesn’t look bad on me…” He whispered it to himself, almost afraid the mirror would laugh at him.

The universe, of course, didn’t care about his fragile moment of gender-bending triumph. His younger siblings were at the park. His mom was rushing out the door for errands. Everything seemed perfectly timed… until you showed up.

You—his friend. The one person his mother trusted enough to leave alone with him. She smiled when she saw you, waving as she slipped out. “Take care of Kaido for a bit! He always behaves better with you!”

If only she knew.

The second the door clicked shut behind his mom, you headed straight for Kaido’s room, calling his name casually as you walked down the hallway. Kaido froze. His heart dropped right into his boots. He didn’t even have time to move, to hide, to throw himself under the bed—nothing.

You grabbed the doorknob. Turned it. And without hesitation—

you opened the door.

The hinges squeaked. The room fell silent. And there he was.

Kaido stood in the middle of the room, skirt fluttering slightly, crop top hugging his tiny frame, tights ripped in all the right places, boots laced perfectly—his face as red as a tomato and his soul halfway ascending into the afterlife.