A simple yet beautiful game. In the short time it took me to get through this narrative it made me cry multiple times, even in its first 5 minutes. As a transgender woman who has always struggled with the anxiety of navigating women's spaces I found a kindred soul in Haru's experiences, words, and thoughts throughout the story. Although I can see how one can interpret the story as a hugboxing, saccharine, feel good story, I find there is a lot of truth in Haru's experience.

Haru herself is a typical transgender woman a few years into her transition. She seems to pass relatively well and her friends and family seemingly accept her as Haru. However, it is made clear that she has not fully legally or medically transitioned. Her legal name, for example, is still her deadname. Haru, like most trans women, is clearly insecure about her perception from the world around her and existentially terrified of making other women uncomfortable. It is that anxiety that the game’s first and honestly, most resonating ending is the result of. If Haru declines Manami’s offer to go to the hot springs the game ends as Haru is unable to take the leap and risk discomfort in pursuit of companionship with her friends and social integration as a woman. On a first playthrough, this immediately brought me to tears. I’ve had conversations that felt identical to that one, my fear and anxiety stopping me from feeling like I belong alongside the cis women in my life. Most of the other endings are far more optimistic but made my eyes water all the same. My favorite of them all is Erika Ending 2, in which Haru spends time alone discussing her own problems with Erika and explaining the dilemma of transness to someone willing to hear her out.

I think the strength of this narrative lies not just in Haru but in her two friends, Manami and Erika. They reflect two different perspectives that the outside world may have on transgender people. Both ultimately kind and supportive but flawed in their delivery.

Manami is a vehement trans ally to Haru, views her as a woman, and would do anything for her. But it is abundantly clear she does not understand why Haru acts the way she does, she does not understand how crippling dysphoria and social anxiety can be for transgender people, and at first refuses to learn. She doesn’t want to pry into Haru’s identity and make her uncomfortable and therefore, cannot truly understand her.

Erika on the other hand is far more inquisitive and blunt. She is clearly supportive and kind to Haru but does not know how to navigate conversation with a transgender woman. She stumbles over herself and makes a few coarse comments that would make any transgender person uncomfortable. But it is her curiosity that in the end causes her to understand Haru far more than Manami ever had. Her sympathy allows her to sit and listen to Haru rather than simply refusing to engage and just accept her as a woman unconditionally. In their conversation alone, Erika learns more about Haru’s identity in one night than Manami has in years.

These opposing methods of support create a compelling dichotomy that explores the tribulations that transgender women in particular experience even from their strongest allies. Stories like this one really resonate and feel truly empathetic to the trans experience. I have never experienced a narrative like this before, and it's truly helped put a lot of my own thoughts into order about my own identity.