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When Asahi was younger, she didn’t understand these feelings.
She was called a boy. She acted like a boy. She never considered the possibility that she might be a girl.
She never realized that these feelings, this discomfort and stiffness and wrongness were unusual.
Before Karasuno, Asahi thought that she was a boy.
She wore her uniform, and she played on the boys volleyball team, and she was at peace. She had friends, she had a family, she was happy. Outside of school, she essentially lived in battered flannels and worn jeans, and she was comfortable.
She continued to feel wrong, but she didn’t understand why.
She didn’t understand until she was halfway through her first year.
-
Asahi picks his way carefully across the room, stepping lightly and moving slowly so as to let Daichi and Suga sleep. It’s still early, and he’s usually awake at least an hour before them.
He softly pushes the door closed, quiet as possible, and he leaves his boyfriends to sleep.
“Asahi!” Asahi hears Daichi’s sister call quietly, and he stops, glancing at her. Her bedroom door is cracked, and she gestures to him. “Come here for a second.”
Asahi hesitates before complying, still fairly awkward around Satoshi, and around Daichi’s family in general.
“Good morning, Satoshi-san,” he greets, soft and stiff.
“Shut the door, I’ve gotta talk to you!!” she insists.
“Me?” Asahi asks, frowning as he awkwardly closes the door. “What is it?”
“This is gonna sound weird, but hear me out,” Satoshi tells quickly, “I was shopping online a few weeks ago, and I bought a bunch of stuff— don’t tell Dai-nii, he doesn’t know how much money I spent— but, uhh, I ordered the wrong size. Like, really wrong. Like, this stuff would probably fit you.”
Asahi looks at her, dressed in purples and blues and a pleated skirt, and looks down at his own battered flannel and worn jeans. “Satoshi-san, I don’t dress the way you do.”
“Just trust me, I’ve got a theory,” Satoshi insists, shoving a paper bag at him. “Go try that on? Please?”
She blinks at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he sighs.
“Alright,” he agrees reluctantly, hesitantly taking the bag from her and standing up. “I’ll be right back.”
He leaves her room, walking lightly and keeping quiet, and he slips into the bathroom. He steels himself before looking into the bag.
The shirt isn’t too bad. It’s loose and flowy when he puts it on, but it’s a neutral white, so it’s not necessarily feminine.
But there’s a skirt.
The skirt is a soft purple, and it feels amazing between his fingers. It’s soft and cool and silky.
Satoshi was right when she said that it would fit him. It slides against his skin as he steps into it, and as he pulls it to his hips, it feels nothing less than divine.
He looks into the mirror, and he’s surprised by what he sees.
He likes it.
He bites his cheek thoughtfully before tugging the tie out of his hair, letting it fall loose.
Not quite confident but not exactly nervous either, he leaves his clothes in the bathroom, returning to Satoshi’s room.
She presses her hands together and grins when she sees him. “I was right, it’s definitely your size!! You look good, Asahi!!”
“Thank you,” Asahi says quietly, “I think— I feel good, too. This… it feels right, somehow.”
Satoshi smiles softly. “Asahi, I’ve had a theory for ages now. Do you know what it means to be transgender?”
Asahi nods slowly.
“If I’m overstepping, or if I’m wrong, tell me,” Satoshi says carefully, “but I think you might be. Trans, I mean.”
Asahi lets his fingers splay out across the skirt, and it feels divine beneath his hands. He thinks of the feelings of wrongness he constantly suppresses. He thinks of curious glances at the mall, of skirts and dresses and silky soft, and he thinks of the longing that he didn’t admit to having felt.
“I—” Asahi’s voice cracks slightly. “I think you might be right. I think I’m a girl.”
Someone knocks at the door, and Asahi flinches hard, anxiety bubbling up.
“Toshi,” Daichi calls sleepily, “did you kidnap our boyfriend?”
Asahi looks at Satoshi, who gestures at the door with an encouraging smile. With every ounce of bravery that she possesses, she opens the door.
Daichi blinks at her, brow crinkling in confusion, and Suga inhales sharply.
“Um” Asahi says eloquently, “I think I might be your girlfriend. Is that… is that alright?”
“Asahi,” Suga breathes, a grin stretching across his face. “Of course that’s alright. You look amazing.”
“I didn’t expect—” Daichi blinks again, wiping sleep from his eyes. “But yeah. Yeah, of course, Asahi. I don’t care if you’re a boy or a girl, I love you.”
“I’m stealing that skirt. Boys can wear skirts, and I’m gonna wear that skirt,” Suga declares. “It looks super comfy. Does it feel comfy?”
Asahi grins. “It feels divine.”