Work Text:
When he's six years old, his mother asks him, "How many friends do you have, Haru-kun?"
Haru looks up at her with eyes that are too wise for his age and shakes his head. He has none. The life he's been given hasn't let him go out and find some, nor has it let them come to him. He is in isolation more often than not, of his own will, at this point; he has seen nothing but trouble coming from getting close to others, and he does not wish to go through the pain.
Her smile is genuine, but it is reserved, like it always has been. Even in his earliest memories, she has looked so tired, worn ragged by her work and dedication to her family, like she didn't have it in her to go all out and be happy. He does not envy her.
"Haru-kun," She says softly, stroking his head from where it rests in her lap as they sit on the soft swinging bench on the porch. "Could you do Mother a favor?"
He nods. He'll do anything for her. She's his mother.
Her eyes-so much like his, but so much different-crinkle around the corners when she smiles this time, and he studies the dimple in her right cheek. It's rare that he sees that anymore.
"Haru-kun, do you ever think you'll get married?" She asks, and he shakes his head again. He has no interest in those things, and he can't see himself ever wanting them. Families bring vulnerability. Spouses bring chains. Children bring burden. All he wants is freedom.
She laughs softly, smoothing his bangs away from his face and leaning down to dust her lips over his forehead. "Good boy. Can you promise me that you'll take good care of our people?"
He doesn't understand then, but he nods regardless. He's grown up around the people and they've done everything for him, contributed to raising him up to be a good man even after his father passed from an illness.
He learns, then, that only women can inherit.
By the time Haru is eight, he's learned how to speak like a girl. His "s"'s are sharper and more pronounced, and he's even learned how to smile like a girl; he curls his lips out a little and, instead of giving a flat, straight row of teeth, the corners of his mouth have learned to curve upwards on their own.
When he's nine, his mother gives him his first dress. It's a soft, royal blue, and along with it she asks if he'll allow her to get his ears pierced. He does, because he really doesn't see why it matters.
When he's ten, she stops cutting the back of his hair. She keeps his bangs neat and orderly, as they were before, but now they're accompanied with clips or ties, and often the rapidly growing length of his hair is tied back, kept out of his face.
When he's eleven, Haru-kun is a name that his mother stops using altogether. She calls him Haruka-his full name, one that he's never quite liked-instead. He doesn't complain.
On his thirteenth birthday, 'he' becomes 'her.'
She's fourteen when she meets Tachibana Makoto, and her guards seem to spike around him.
Mainly because as soon as he looks at her, she sees the recognition in his eyes. He isn't fooled by the choker hiding her neck, by her attempts to change her quickly deepening voice. He knows. And she is absolutely boned if her mother finds out that someone's caught on.
She's an only child. There is nobody to take over the empire if she's found out. Only women can inherit.
But somehow this gangly giant of an adolescent figured her out before she had said two words to him.
There's something about his eyes-a dark color, like olives-that throws her off. They're deep and compassionate, and, unlike the rest of him, fairly hard to read. Haruka realizes, as her mother introduces the boy as someone she wants her to try and become friends with, that he's hiding something. Big.
And her curiousity almost physically burns her when she realizes it has to do with her.
He glances at her all through dinner, each look with increasing inquisitveness, until Haruka outright stands and asks if she may take Makoto-kun out to see the fountain. She really doesn't want him anywhere near her precious fountain, but if she takes him to someplace she loves, her mother will assume that she's taken to him; and, in turn, she won't seek them out. Which is perfect for Haruka right now, because she has a few questions.
It works. Haruka's mother smiles a pleased smile and she ducks her head in a graceful nod, glancing sidelong at Makoto's father, who is sitting beside her with a similar grin.
"Have fun, you two." He calls as Haruka drags Makoto out the door. "Hands to yourself, Makoto!"
Makoto blushes furiously and Haruka hears her mother snickering as the door clicks shut behind them.
She leads the way in utter silence, her strides long and stiff, and by the time they reach the fountain Makoto is less out of breath than she thought he'd be, considering he's been half jogging to keep pace with her. He's got surprisingly short strides for having such long legs.
They just stand for a handful of minutes. And then, like she expects, Makoto shifts until he's standing beside her, peering into the fountain.
Her voice is sharp, maybe a little harsher than she means to be. "Do you like it?"
Makoto flashes her a grin that's not at all affected by her tone. "It's beautiful. We don't have fountains like this, where I live."
Another long silence. Makoto's voice is soft as he finally, finally asks, "Haruka-chan, can I ask why you're wearing girl clothes?" She stiffens despite herself, and he turns to look at her. "You're a boy, right?"
For a second, it flickers-suddenly she's him again, and he's standing beside the single most perceptive human being that he's ever met, and his shoulders ache from how tight they are and his whisper trembles as he chokes, "How?"
Makoto blinks like he expected to be slapped. "Well... I dunno. I thought it was pretty obvious." He halts, red in the face as he stammers, "Wait! That's not what I meant! I mean, you're a beautiful girl, but I just-I mean, if you want to be a girl then that's okay, I'll respect that, I just-just wanted to know why, if that's okay, I guess, but if it's not it's totally okay, or if you want to be a girl that's okay too, I mean, but being a boy is okay too, so I'll just... stop talking..."
For a brief, confusing moment, Haruka is neither. They aren't male or female, they are just them; and then the moment passes and she settles, taking a deep, diplomatic breath and folding her hands in front of her, over her stomach.
"Our parents want us to get married." She says frankly, tilting her head as she watches water pump from the marble facets of the fountain. "How do you feel about that?"
Makoto giggles. "I think we're a little young to get married." He says smartly, and she rolls her eyes.
"That's a given." She doesn't push the subject. She certainly doesn't feel like marrying. But if it's what her mother thinks is best, she won't go against it.
"So, your dad..." Makoto's really, really, really bad at hiding his excitement over things. He turns to her with wide, sparkling eyes, and it's a ridiculous expression on someone his age. "He was The Nanase Nobunaga, right? Right?"
Her brows meet. "Don't ask if you already know."
He chuckles. "Sorry. I just-kids in my community idolize him. They say he brought peace to all the gang wars and stuff. Isn't it cool to have a dad like that?"
Her eyes narrow, dart away, soften. "He passed away when I was little. I don't remember much about him."
"Ah." Makoto's sigh is somehow sympathetic. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."
"I'm really not bothered by it." She says, but that's a lie. If her father had been alive, maybe... maybe she wouldn't have turned out this way. Maybe she would still be Haru-kun, just a regular boy that could come and go as he pleased.
But her father is not alive, and she is not a boy. That's something she's accepted at this point, and she really should be bothered by it.
Normally, she's not.
Tonight, it eats her alive.
They don't leave their room for two days after the Tachibanas are gone.
They're stuck in a constant state of being unsure whether they're really a boy, whether they're really a girl, if they're just neither. They can't leave. They can't face their mother like this. She would be so disappointed.
So they say that they're sick. And it works, too, because they haven't slept more than three hours, and all they've gotten out of bed to do is use the small en suite bathroom every once in a while. They're confused, and their first response is to close themself off. And it's taking time, but Haruka's never really been a very busy person. They have time.
They're okay enough to get up a soak in the bath for a handful of hours, until their mother knocks on the door and announces that she brought some zinc pills if they were up to taking them. Haruka asks her to leave the medicine on her nightstand and ends up getting out of the bath quickly, without once looking in the mirror because right now, they're going to go crazy if they have to acknowledge the fact that their body is still that of a boy's.
When they do leave their room, it's because the Tachibana's are back.
Their mother apparently doesn't expect them to come out, because she's entertaining the guests by herself when they appear, a heavy blanket wrapped around their shoulders, and crook their finger at Makoto.
"You." They say with barely kept patience. "Come here."
Their mother looks worried but Makoto's father smiles sweetly, ushering his son away and towards them. Makoto comes close enough for them to see the speckles of gold in his eyes when they seize him by the wrist and drag him back to their room, shutting and locking the door behind them.
They drop the blanket and stare at him. "What did you do to me?"
Makoto blinks, not looking at all like he understands. Their brows furrow.
"You broke me." They say, stepping forward and narrowly avoiding tripping over the blanket. "I don't know what I am anymore. It's your fault."
"Haruka-chan-" They flinch, and Makoto amends with a question in his voice, "Haru-kun...?"
They shake their head.
"Then... Can I just call you Haru? It's a unisex name."
They think about it for a moment, studying him, and then they nod, narrow shoulders shifting in a shrug. "That's fine." A pause, and then, "Tell me what you did to me."
"Haru," Makoto says the name like he's testing it out, like he isn't sure how it sounds yet, if it's really okay. When Haru doesn't budge, he continues slowly, "I looked up on it a little when I went back home, and... Are you possibly genderfluid?"
Haru stares.
Makoto's smile is that of relief, and he rubs the back of his neck. "It's when a person goes between being a guy and being a girl, or being neither. Like... Right now, you don't feel like either, right?" Haru's weighted stare shifting from side to side must be answer enough, because the tension is starting to fade from Makoto's shoulders. "But just a few days ago, you were a girl, right? And then when I was around, for a few minutes, you were a boy. That's genderfluid-do you think that might be what you are?"
Haru ponders it, rolls it over and over again in their head before they say, "I think so." Because they really can't know, nobody's ever told them about this sort of thing.
Makoto grins. "That's okay. Being all three is okay."
Haru's heart skips a few paces and they study him like he's some new species, but they can't help it; they've never been told that. Their entire life it's been that they've had to be female, had no other choice, that wanting to be a boy was hormones and wanting to be neither was a phase. It's never been just okay, and Haru can't help the fact that they question Makoto, they really can't.
"I... Don't believe you." They say after a minute, blinking. "Why are you so okay with it?"
"Ah-" Makoto opens his mouth to speak, and then shuts it very quickly, shaking his head. He smiles so openly that it almost physically hurts to look at. "I have a friend-their name is Nagisa-and they're like that. They've been my friend since I was a little kid and they're really nice and... Well, you know, they're happy. Being like this isn't a bad thing."
Haru's eyes cut to the floor. "Yes it is."
"Says who?" They're suprised by the passion in his voice. "Your mom? She's just one person. There's a whole bunch of people that think this is okay. A lot of people accept it. There are even groups to support it."
Their brows kiss and their teeth click together as they look at him again. "Her opinion is the only one that matters."
Makoto is looking right through them. "You don't really mean that, do you, Haru?"
They grit their teeth.
Makoto is the one to step forward this time, reaching out slowly to place his hands on their shoulders. He bumps their foreheads together and smiles so calmly that it's hard to believe how young he is.
"Haru," He says softly. "Gets to decide who they want to be, so they shouldn't worry about what other people say."
Haru is surprised how easily they cry.
When they're sixteen, they kiss Makoto first.
They're laying on their bed with him, listening to him talk about noncommitial things. He goes off on a tangent about the differences between hot fries and fire fries and how people get them confused all the time and Haru really doesn't care, but they like listening to him talk, so they close their eyes and rest their head on his shoulder and just feel, listen to the deep, gentle thrum of his voice and drink in the feel of his chest and sides vibrating. He stutters when they touch his arm, wrap their own around it, and they hear the smile in his voice as he resumes talking, more softly, like he thinks that they're tired.
"Haru," He cooes, craning up a little to look at them. "Do you want to take a nap?"
Haru shakes their head, eyes cracking open and zoning in on his face. They drop, tracing hard lines and soft colours and suddenly their fingers are tangled in the hair at the base of Makoto's neck and they're pulling themself up, halfway on top of him as they lean down and press their lips to his.
Makoto goes so still that Haru wonders if he's even breathing, but they don't stop. Their fingers come up to cradle his jaw, eyes fluttering shut as they move their lips differently, so that their nose isn't smushing into his anymore. The new position gives room to breath and the kiss is slow and lazy, relaxed. Haru realizes that Makoto's eyes are shut too when his hands come up to rest slowly on their waist, and Haru rolls on top of him completely, lower body nestled between his legs.
Makoto's lips are hesitant against his, gentle in steady in a way that's so him that Haru has to swallow a laugh. Their teeth click against his when they press forward too eagerly and Makoto squeaks, and they don't hold it in this time; Makoto knows that they're laughing at him, too, because the playfully offended look on his face pushes his cheeks out and brings his eyebrows together.
"You're so mean, Haru." He whines, and Haru noses his cheek, dusting a feather light kiss there that has Makoto sighing dreamily. "Really, I wasn't expecting that."
Haru mouths an innocent kiss over the tanned skin of his neck. "You weren't?"
"No, not at all." They kiss back up his jaw and to his lips and hold each other for a long, slow moment, lips moving against each other in the sweetest way that Haru's ever known. Maybe all those cheesy movies weren't exaggerating.
"Haru," Makoto whispers against them, and it sends a spike of heat straight to their groin, so they pull back and burrow into Makoto's neck, purring softly. Makoto understands-he doesn't push, rubs slow shapes in Haru's back in a friendly way. He's not asking them to do anything they don't want to, not pushing them to pursue feelings they don't understand, and they're grateful for it, because he's the only one that's ever treated them like that.
"Makoto." Their voice is muffled but he hums because he hears them, he'll hear them if they're a thousand worlds away. "Do you want to go out?"
Makoto makes a soft noise in the back of his throat that Haru takes as surprise. "If... If you'll have me, I'd love to. I really like you, Haru, I do."
Haru knows that-Makoto hasn't exactly been good at hiding it, even if they know that he'd be content with pining forever so long as Haru wasn't inconvenienced.
"Okay." They say softly, reaching their arms around his neck and resting there because they're actually kind of tired now. Dealing with new situations always does that to them, minor as they may be. "Makoto."
"Mm. I know." He reaches to pull the comforter over them, and Haru doesn't bother with rolling off of him, instead dropping their head to rest between his collar bones and dozing off.
"Haru," They feel lips touch the crown of their head. "Sleep well."
They do.