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Katsuki was never one to like the dresses or bows her mom bought her. She didn't like her hair long or the dolls she got for birthdays, either. She liked her short, spikey hair and boyish clothes. She liked playing rough with friends and liked the small Hot Wheels she got for her seventh birthday.
"She's really a tomboy, huh?" Mitsuki said to Inko one afternoon. They were all outside, Katsuki playing with Izuku and the two women on the porch, iced drinks in hand.
Inko laughed. "Yes, she really is." A fond smile blossomed on her face. "I hope she never looses that quality."
Katsuki didn't get it then. 'Doesn't she want me to be girly? Mom always wants me to try to be, at least.' It stumped her. And now ten years old, standing infront of a mirror in her room, she was glad that Aunt Inko had said that. Maybe she wouldn't have come to this realization if she didn't.
She was only in a bra and underwear, and picked apart everything that she saw in the mirror. She was to curvy, her hips too wide and breasts too big. Her face was so soft and feminine, and she wishes she had stronger features like her father. She wishes she had a more masculine build like Izuku. She wishes—
She wishes she were a boy.
---
Shoto never liked the boys clothes that he was bought or the toy trucks. He didn't like how wide his father grinned when he called him his son. He preferred to dress up with his siblings, always opting to be the princess that they needed to save. He liked when they'd do his hair, making tiny pigtails and adding pink bows.
Rei and Fuyumi were making dinner one night, talking about anything and everything. Fuyumi, while peeling potatoes, idly talked to her mom. "You know, Sho's really girly," she said. "He likes to dress up with me and play dolls, and even let's me do his hair and makeup!"
Rei stopped what she was doing. She'd never noticed It before. He was rather feminine. She just smiled and continued to cut the vegetables. "Well, as long as Shoto's happy, then it'll be alright."
Fuyumi grinned wide and nodded. "Yeah! I never want him to change!"
When he was eleven, Shoto realized something about himself. He didn't like being a boy. He would look at his mom and sister in envy, wishing he was more feminine like them. He wanted their pretty long hair and pretty hands. He wished that he could be like them. He wished—
He wished he was a girl.
---
UA was something that Katsuki had dreamed of his whole life, the heroes that he looked up to made the gates seem like gold, promising him greatness. When he got his letter, he was over the moon. Him and his parents had a mini party that night.
When the uniform came in, it was the girls version. He tossed it into a corner and hid under his blankets. Mitsuki came in later, saw the clothes in a corner and her son hidden under his blankets, then backed out. She called the school and managed to get the boys uniform instead and scheduled an appointment with the principal to update his documents.
The first day of school was suffocating, Katsuki decided. A stuck-up rich kid yelled at him for sitting comfortably, and the majority of his class was loud and obnoxious. Not to mention Deku was there, too. And to think that he could shake him off after middle school. There was a few who were quiet and not annoying, like Endeavor's daughter. She kept to herself, only talking when someone talked to her. She was weird, honestly, but not nosey like raccoon eyes or Pikachu next to him.
Aizawa walked in, got them quiet (thank God, Katsuki breathed a sigh of relief), and told them to go get into their gym uniforms. Katsuki froze. He didnt think about that, in all the excitement of getting in, he didn't think about getting changed in front of other guys. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Endeavor's kid frozen, too. Aizawa dismissed the class, and they all dashed out. All of them except for Katsuki and Shoto.
"Bakugou, Todoroki," Aizawa grumbled, spooking the two and grabbing their attention, "the changing rooms have stalls that you can change in." They relaxed, then walked out together, Aizawa trailing behind.
"Why do you need a stall?" Shoto said, startling Katsuki a bit.
The blond shrugged. "Why do you want to know?"
The girl opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She looked back down, grabbing her hand tightly. "I want to know if you're like me."
Katsuki raised a brow, now studying her. She had long half-white-half-red hair that fell to around her hips. She was muscular, but still looked delicate. She had a small chest and a small waist. Her face was pretty, too, the scar over her eye only seemed to add to it. She was absolutely majestic, almost like an angel or a fairy.
"What do you mean by that?" He asked, and the girl only grabbed her hand tighter.
She took a breath, seemingly scared. "I mean,, are you...Trans?" Katsuki froze for a second. Shoto bit her lip. "Never mind, just forget—"
"Yeah, I am."
Shoto stared at the boy besides her. "Really?" He nodded, seeming a bit worried. Shoto looked back infront of herself. "I wouldn't have guessed if we both didn't get told about the stalls."
Katsuki smiled a bit at that, but Shoto tried not to stare too long. The boy was handsome. He had some muscle and a pretty build that anyone would be jealous of. His face was pretty, too. It felt like looking at a statue. It was strong where it needed to be and soft where it was necessary.
"You're really pretty." Shoto mumbled, and Katsuki's face went red.
"What do you mean by that, icyhot?!" He barked and Shoto smiled a little bit.
"Nothing, you objectively look nice." The two bickered back and forth until they made it to the changing rooms, where the parted ways.
---
The dorms were something, that's for sure. At the most ungodly hours of the night you'd hear screaming coming form someone's room while they played a game or accidentally hear the latest gossip. Or you could hear two unlikely friends hanging out.
Shoto had her hair up in a messy bun and wore a Jet Joan shirt that she stole from Bakugou over workout shorts, and was tossing popcorn into her mouth while she talked to Katsuki. The blond had red plaid pajama pants and a baggy plain black t-shirt, his binder long forgotten on his desk chair. He was picking a playlist to listen to on the small speaker he had set up. This was a weekly ritual for them; they'd listen to music, eat snacks, and talk about anything and everything.
'Its nice to have a friend like this,' they both thought. 'Someone who gets me.' They were an odd pair, honestly. Odd enough that it worked.