Note: I will be using he/him pronouns in this review, since as of this volume, that's what Makoto uses.

Gender can be a performance. Because of socially mandated gender norms, that's true even if you identify as cisgender, though of course it's a much more pronounced issue if you identify as trans, nonbinary, or genderfluid. For Makoto, the protagonist of Pom's Senpai is an Otokonoko: My Crossdressing Classmate, performing his gender is even trickier. AMAB, Makoto has been drawn to so-called “girly” things since he was little, only to have his mother shoot him down every time. “Normal boys,” he's told, “aren't supposed to want high heels and dresses.” But Makoto does want those things, and is more comfortable presenting in a feminine way.

Based on the pronouns Makoto uses, it doesn't seem like, as of this volume, he identifies as a woman. But it's clear that crossdressing and using feminine body language are much more comfortable for him, something that becomes clearer and clearer as the book goes on. The scene that ends the first episode of the anime adaptation (which preceded the source material into English translation, at least as far as print goes), where Makoto changes from his girls' uniform and wig to look like a boy at the end of the school day, telling his real self “good night,” doesn't happen until midway through the book, which feels like the creator may be unsure of their direction until this point. For the first half, the focus is on Saki, the high-energy first-year girl who confesses to Makoto and then doesn't care what his gender is. It feels as if the story was going to take more of a comedic (or “comedic,” if you find early Saki as annoying as I do) track before realizing that it had something else to offer readers.

Saki, at this point in the story, turns out to represent the would-be ally who isn't entirely sure how to be one. Makoto's childhood friend Ryuji understands why Makoto has to keep his crossdressing under wraps and that he doesn't want to be the center of attention, but Saki's blind enthusiasm for all things Makoto doesn't come with these boundaries. She's equally as enthralled by the girl and boy Makoto. It's the person she likes, not the body, but she's also naïve enough not to realize that other people won't be so kind. Ryuji repeatedly tells her not to call Makoto out in public, a directive Saki's incapable of following, and while we know her heart is in the right place, her actions aren't. It's tough to watch, perhaps all the more so because Makoto keeps most of his feelings to himself on the subject. That, of course, could be read as Ryuji overstepping in his attempts to “save” Makoto from Saki, and part of what makes this volume so interesting is the many potential interpretations of the characters' actions. Maybe they're all just performing for each other, unaware that they're doing so.

The most difficult section of the book takes place in Makoto's home, when he performs boyhood for his mother. He deliberately steals a piece of chicken as she's cooking, because that's what boys do, and she giggles at his “masculinity” with obvious pride. Later, he corrects his sitting position on the couch, whipping his knees apart and slouching to adopt a more “male” pose, when his first, more comfortable instinct is to sit up straight with his knees together. It's a good reminder that “home” isn't always a safe place, something driven home when Saki comes over (at Ryuji's behest, presumably to show her why her silence is important) and Makoto's mom flips out with joy, certain that this is her son's girlfriend and giddily treating her like the long-awaited queen. It's horrible and uncomfortable, and it does clue Saki in to what Makoto is dealing with, even if she doesn't fully understand yet.

Senpai is an Otokonoko began its life as a webtoon, which means that some vestiges of the vertical scroll format remain in this traditional book, mostly in terms of paneling. It's also in full color, which helps with moments like little Makoto looking at what he likes – his world is grey with splashes of pink. This helps to highlight his feelings of disconnect while also serving as a reinforcement of what he more or less tells Saki in the first chapter: that he makes others uncomfortable and is himself uncomfortable with that fact.

This is the sort of series I fully expect to see evolve over its ten-volume run. It's as much about learning comfort levels and respect as it is about learning who it is you are or want to be, and even within this single volume, you can see creator Pom making adjustments to the narrative flow. All we can hope is that Makoto will be able to find a way to exist that won't feel like performing – and that everyone can accept it.