It was said that in primitive communal societies, men were treated as shared property within the community.

As time went on, local rulers began to monopolize men, lending them out to their subjects only during ovulation periods. In that way, men became symbols of wealth and power.

But that, too, did not last forever.

After countless civil revolutions across the world and the rise of democratic nations, men once again became shared property of the state.

Eventually, they were granted human rights equal to those of women. Though they still bore certain obligations for population maintenance, they were at last able to live ordinary lives.

In Japan, this movement advanced rapidly after the Meiji Restoration, and Shirayuki Academy’s old main building remained a historic structure symbolizing the progress of that era.

The history of men had always been bound to power and struggle.

And even now, that had not changed.

“My, it really was the right decision to leave the class to Isshiki-san. She’s clearly so comfortable around men.”

“Indeed. I imagine she must have interacted with them quite actively back in middle school. How dependable.”

“The Isshiki family must be surrounded by men. The way she so smoothly asked for his contact information—how educational.”

Toudou Mizuki quietly observed the subtle battle unfolding before his eyes.

He had seen this kind of power struggle before—back in middle school.

—Yes. This was what he had hated.

Perhaps because fragments of his past life were still mixed into his memories, he recalled it all with a strange detachment.

Back in elementary school, Mizuki had belonged to the group of model students.

He had always been serious and mild-mannered, preferring the company of equally quiet girls.

And that had been his downfall.

In public schools, one or two boys were usually assigned per grade. It wasn’t unusual for there to be boys in a school, but none in the same year.

When Mizuki advanced to middle school, he merged with students from another elementary school—and found that he was the only boy in his entire grade.

For the girls from the other school, it was their first time having a boy so close by.

It was also the time when they had just finished puberty, when interest in the opposite sex began to bloom.

And Mizuki’s circle of friends consisted of quiet, modest girls.

Those conditions combined to ignite an intense struggle for dominance within the class.

And Mizuki had to watch as the girls he had been close to became targets of cruel bullying.

—I wonder what happened to them after that.

When Mizuki finally realized that he was the cause of it all, he stopped going to school.

He became afraid of women’s gazes.

He shut himself away at home.

As he grew older, those lingering, clinging stares only grew more intense.

Visits from government officials urging him to fulfill his social service duties, from doctors offering counseling, from aides acting as guardians, from teachers checking in—all of them were women.

Every encounter was painful. Terrifying.

He could feel himself sinking further and further away from society.

Then, in the winter of his third year of middle school, Toudou Mizuki stepped into the street—almost as if drawn there.

“I actually came up from Shirayuki’s middle school division. Unfortunately, it was a girls-only school, so this is my first such experience with Toudou-sama. I might look calm, but I’m actually quite nervous.”

In front of her, Isshiki Shizuku held that mask-like smile, calmly letting the three girls’ barbed remarks slide off her.

The sight reminded Mizuki of a girl from his childhood—one he had once been close to.

Back then, all he could do was watch from the sidelines.

—I could have done better.

His thoughts were cool and level.

Even as he remembered those unpleasant memories, his body didn’t freeze up.

—If I was born male in this world, then I can never escape these kinds of struggles.

The history of men had always been bound to power and conflict.

In the past, in the present, and, most likely, in the future as well.

“The next class is math, right? I wonder if high school math’s going to be hard.”

He spoke as casually as he could, as though nothing had happened.

“Are you all good at math? I’m a little worried about it myself.”

The memories that had resurfaced after his attempted suicide were never clear.

He couldn’t remember his name, age, or background from that other life—everything was shrouded in fog.

Even the premise of it being a “past life” was uncertain. The world in his memories looked almost the same as this one, yet the gender ratio was completely different.

It was as if he had seen a parallel world. He didn’t even have the words to define it properly.

“I-I’m not good at it either!”

“I’m worried I won’t be able to keep up.”

“I might be able to help, a little…”

“Math’s my strongest subject! Please ask me anytime!”

Maybe those so-called past-life memories were nothing but delusion—just comforting lies created by a brain that had been driven to the brink.

“I see, some people are good at it. Then, once we have a class group chat, maybe I’ll ask those who are better at it for advice.”

In the end, there was no way to confirm it.

There was nothing to prove, no knowledge he could really use—only a small change in how he saw women.

“Isshiki-san, thank you too. It’s really helpful when someone takes the initiative to propose something. I’d be happy if you could tell me any ideas you come up with in the future.”

But he’d gained something else: the ability to care about others.

He no longer felt like dying.

“Y-yes! If there’s anything I can do as class president!”

So this time, he would do better.

“Thanks. Really, I mean it. Anyone can criticize from the sidelines, but actually doing something yourself—that’s the hardest part.”

In this broken world, Toudou Mizuki decided to step forward on his own.

◇◆◇

“Hey, did you hear? Apparently there’s a guy who’s been coming to the arcade nearby. Do you think he’s from Shirayuki Academy?”

Koito Tsubaki, who had been quietly reading in her classroom, looked up with mild irritation at her friend’s excited voice.

“If we’re lucky, we might see him! Let’s go after school!”

“…I’ll pass.”

Tsubaki said it simply and returned her gaze to her book.

“Oh, come on! If you act all cool like that, you’ll regret it later. After graduation, all the men will be locked down and there won’t be any openings left.”

“I told you, I’m not interested.”

It wasn’t a bluff. She meant it.

Despite her grades being good enough, she didn’t even apply to Shirayuki Academy.

In public elementary and middle schools, male students were distributed as evenly as possible. But from high school onward, most boys were concentrated in certain national academies, leaving girls to compete fiercely for admission. Yet Tsubaki chose a girls’ school entirely by her own will.

“Wait, don’t tell me—you like girls?”

“…It’s not like that.”

Her meddlesome friend would probably keep inviting her to places where boys were present.

So, for once, Tsubaki decided to speak honestly.

“I’ve… liked someone for a long time.”

“…”

Silence fell between them.

Around them, the familiar chatter of an all-girls school filled the air.

“…You mean, like an old classmate from elementary school or something?”

Her friend’s tone grew cautious, as if afraid to pry too deeply. Tsubaki said nothing.

“Maybe someone you were close to from the neighborhood? Or a boy who used to sit next to you on the school bus? Maybe someone from lessons outside school? Everyone has memories like that. I do too. They’re beautiful, unforgettable things.”

Her voice was gentle—almost comforting.

And Tsubaki understood, rationally, that she was right.

“For us, those memories are special… but for them, they’re not.”

“Maybe so.”

A boy’s face surfaced in her mind.

The one she had loved.

The one who had been special.

The one she hadn’t been able to protect.

“But I don’t think I’ll ever forget him. Not for as long as I live.”

Even when her classmates showed her pictures or clips of famous boys, her heart never stirred.

There was only one person in her heart.

Even after graduation, even after she started working, even when those around her began having children—she knew it would never change.

It felt like the memory had been burned into her very soul.

“So, I’m fine like this.”

Koito Tsubaki said it with a faint, lonely smile.