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Tanaka Ryunosuke strides down the second floor hallway towards a now-vacated first year classroom, his hands in his pockets and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. It’s been a month since he started high school and so far? It’s not so bad. Well… okay, classes are pretty bad, but he’ll probably - maybe - make it through the semester without flunking anything completely and he’s been making friends, so all in all? Really not bad.
The other volleyball team first-years are on their way to the club room to get ready for practice. Nishinoya doesn’t change with everyone else and no one is quite sure why. He just always shows up in his gym clothes, ready to get to it with that big grin on his face. It’s probably fine, it’s not like it’s any of his business, but Tanaka figures it’s kind of cold to just assume someone’s fine, so he goes to find Noya anyways. His classroom should already be empty, so Ryu doesn’t hesitate to slide the door open, calling out an immediate greeting as he walks in.
“So I figured I’d--” His sentence is cut off by the small silhouette he sees, tucked out of view of the windows, who instinctively clutches their shirt to their chest.
“Ryu, shut the door!” Noya shouts and Tanaka does it immediately because in the month he’s known Nishinoya Yū, he has never once seen the kid scared or even startled - until now.
Ryunosuke has absolutely no idea what to say - though it may be more appropriate to describe him as struck speechless, since not knowing what to say has never stopped him before. He’s gaping at a guy he became best friends with over the course of three club practices, his eyes wide while Noya scrambles to get his shirt on the rest of the way and hide the cloth bandage wrapped around his chest. When he’s dressed, they stare at each other, Noya’s eyes hard and fierce and his bottom lip shaking. It’s the lip that does in Ryu, who never thought he would see that in a million years.
“What’s-- What is--?” he starts, then stops. His friend’s eyes fall to the floor, features tense and sharp in a way that is completely foreign. “Noya, why do you--”
“I’m trans!” Yū blurts out suddenly, forcefully, and then falls dead silent.
Tanaka is more startled by the hurriedness of the admission and the way his friend’s gaze stays pinned to the floor, his neck turning progressively more red and his mouth pressed into a shaky, unhappy line. Uncomfortable silence expands between them for what feels like a long time, though it’s likely only a few seconds before the taller of the two speaks again.
“Okay,” Tanaka manages in the leading tone of one who needs further clarification and Noya huffs, crossing his arms uncomfortably.
“Okay like you don’t know what that means or okay like ‘it’s fine, don’t worry about it’?”
It takes another second for the response to come.
“I mean, I dunno if--” Ryu hesitates, less sure of himself than he ever is. “‘Okay’ like… aw fuck, I dunno, Noya. What does it mean, then?” His tone is more defeated than exasperated; it still smarts a little.
“It means I’m--” The sentence starts out sharp - too sharp, evidently, because Yū pauses to take a breath and calm himself, his head inclining downwards while he summons the proper words. Rudimentary explanation. Start with the basics. “It means that when I was born, the doctor decided I was a girl, my mom put me in dresses and made me keep my hair long.”
“You’d fucking hate that,” Tanaka points out helpfully.
“Exactly,” Noya replies, his shoulders easing slightly from where they'd grown tight. Silence fills the space between them again and, though this one is less tense, there are questions hanging in the air: Are you going to tell people? Do you still want to be my friend? After a too-long pause, Ryu speaks, reaching up to rub at the back of his head.
“Well I mean, you’re you now, right?”
Clear, honey-brown eyes lift from their spot on the linoleum to assess the way his not-unfriendly gaze is searching Noya. There’s no disgust in his pointed features, no agitation, just a question: you’re you now, right?
“Yeah,” Nishinoya replies, squaring his shoulders and straightening out his spine as pride starts to overtake worry. “Yeah, I am.”
“Well, alright then,” Ryu says with a single definitive nod, then gestures over his shoulder with a thumb. “If you’re changed, let’s get to practice.”
----
For the next week, Tanaka comes to find Nishinoya before club activities and they change together. Ryu doesn’t stare, keeps his eyes on his own clothes, no muss no fuss; they don’t talk about what happened or what maybe should happen, which is both a comfort and a worry, instead filling the space with the latest issue of Shonen Jump or the newest action movie that just came out. They stand together on a Wednesday, working at the buttons of their uniforms in an otherwise empty classroom, when Noya finally brings it up.
“You aren’t gonna tell anybody, right?”
“Huh?” Tanaka looks up with the same expression as when a teacher calls on him in class and he hasn’t been paying attention: dazed and mildly concerned.
“You know, about--” Yū gestures vaguely towards his torso. “--me.”
“Oh.”
The single syllable sits heavily between them during a brief pause.
“No? It’s not my place to tell anyone, so I won’t.”
The relief is palpable, a fist unclenching from around Noya’s lungs. “Thanks,” he says in a voice that is uncharacteristically soft and kicks off his indoor shoes to change into his shorts. A few beats of silence pass before Tanaka speaks again.
“I kinda feel like you should tell the team, though.”
Nishinoya freezes with his hands at his hips, eying Tanaka through his dark lashes.
“...Why?”
“Well, I dunno, I mean… It’d be better if they knew, right? Like for when we do training camps or away games or whatever. We’re all gonna be in one room and bathing together and junk,” his face is neutral when it pops out of the neck of his t-shirt. “Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable?”
It’s a seemingly straight-forward question, but it hits hard. Would he be more comfortable? On the one hand, yeah, he probably would be. Not having to change in classrooms or come to school already dressed for practice in the morning would be great. Being able to horse around with the other club members without worrying about them noticing the lines of the improvised binder under his shirt would be awesome. Being accepted for all of him, including that particular facet of his being, would be incredible. It would be, maybe, but…
“Only if they don’t kick me off the team,” Noya mumbles and Tanaka reacts with genuine confusion on his face again, brows drawn together and tight lips hiked up on one side in an almost-snarl.
“Why the hell would they kick you off the team?”
“Cause I’m-- Don’t give me that look, it happens, man!”
“Well, if it does, then--” Ryu stills, staring at the far wall with his thinking face on. It’s always the same expression, his brows tight and his lower lip pressed up hard in the middle like a dissatisfied muppet.
“If they kick you off the team, I’ll quit too. We can do our own thing.”
Tanaka goes back to changing like he just said he’s looking forward to summer break, or he wonders what’s for lunch tomorrow, or he wishes they were getting less homework in English class. He goes back to changing as if he’s not just made the sort of promise that people don’t make, that Noya never expected anyone to make him. He goes back to changing as though it’s a given: I’ve got your back.
Yū stares at him for a while, bewildered, and then turns his attention back to the t-shirt bunched around his arms. A slow, warm smile curls across his face, tension evaporating like fog in sunshine.
“I’ll think about it.”
----
Practice goes the way it always does. Kurokawa and the other third-years already retired after the loss at the inter-high tournament, leaving Sawamura in charge. Nishinoya likes him as a captain; he’s stern but fair and he’s pretty alright at motivational speeches when the team needs them. There are an unusual number of rookies this year, which everyone seems pretty excited about; Nishinoya is very proud to already be a starting member, though he guesses that has at least a little to do with the fact that there were no other candidates for the libero position. Ryu’s made his way into the starting lineup too and playing alongside him and Chikara feels good.
Even with the weight of the infamous Karasuno nicknames and their fallen powerhouse status, team practices are upbeat. The senpais are positive and energetic, especially Sugawara. He’s vice-captain now, but he doesn’t seem very… authoritative, more like the fun parent. One of the three isn’t as lively as the others, though. The first day of practice, when Nishinoya sprang forward to introduce himself, Azumane had actually flinched - a surprise, given his significant stature. Despite all his height and strength and the reputation he had in middle school, he’s surprisingly… meek. Hell, Noya’s heard the reputation he has in high school and it’s even worse than it used to be, but Asahi’s the biggest teddy bear in the whole club.
Yū finds himself inexplicably drawn to him. When there’s a break in the activity or Nishinoya’s watching from outside a practice match, sometimes he realizes he’s staring at Azumane, spaced out and looking at his little ponytail or the scruff he’s trying to grow on his chin. It’s not like he’s the first powerful spiker Yū’s ever met or seen play. He’s not the tallest, not the fiercest. His game is admirable, but it’s not what hits Nishinoya the hardest.
What hits him the hardest is the first time he sees Azumane cry.
After a particularly devastating defeat at a practice match, Noya finds his much larger senpai sitting up against the back of the second gymnasium, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms folded over top, face hidden in the dark, safe space created between. He watches with curiosity from a distance for a few seconds, just taking note of the tremble in those strong shoulders and the quiet hiccup in his breathing before he realizes what’s happening.
Small, quiet feet scrape softly against the dirt on his way over, startling Asahi out of his hunched position at the last second. The older boy looks up at him not with anger or frustration in his eyes, but fear.
That’s what does it: the reflection of a fear he knows - the fear of being found out.
“Nishi-- Nishinoya-san, I didn’t--” he’s scrambling, wiping tears off his face with the sleeve of his jacket, and Noya feels something in his chest crack. When Azumane starts trying to climb to his feet, he reaches out a small hand and sets it on a much larger shoulder, drawing those deep brown eyes back up towards him again.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Yū says, his voice uncharacteristically soft, and then he’s lowering himself down to the ground beside his teammate and sitting back against the gym wall.
Asahi looks bewildered. He watches the shift happen and remains tense with his arm across his knees, like he might spring up and run away at any sudden sound or movement. Silence falls between them for several seconds - long enough for the larger of the two to relax a little, his gaze falling down to his lap while Noya stares straight ahead, hands on his thighs and mouth in a neutral line. He wishes briefly that he was the type to carry tissues, but if Azumane doesn’t even have them, he sure as hell wouldn’t.
“It’s not your fault we lost,” Noya says after a while. His counterpart flinches, startled, and then nods as he hunches farther over his knees. “But it’s okay to be upset.”
Asahi turns his head to look over and is met by an understanding expression, brows slightly furrowed and lips turned up in a little shrug.
“We’ll just practice more and try harder next time.”
Noya and Azumane stare at each other for what feels like a long time, though it’s probably no more than a few seconds until Asahi drags his eyes away, features shifting into something tense and determined.
“Yeah,” he says finally and with a single nod of his head he adds, “Yeah, we will.” A sniffle comes next and while he’s wiping at his eyes, Yū watches him move, watches his arms and his hands and the way a few strands of his hair come free of his ponytail. Something warm uncurls in his chest and he drags his gaze away, abruptly hauling himself into a standing position.
“Besides, you’ve got me,” he announces, loudly and much more himself as he jams a thumb into his own chest, “And I’ve got your back.”
Asahi looks up from where he’s slowly standing and a sheepish little smile spreads across his lips. “That’s awfully reassuring,” he says, no sarcasm or humor in his tone, and Nishinoya’s grin beams with the strength of a hundred suns.
----
Roadwork is an essential part of practice. The weather’s warm now; it’s almost time for Golden Week training camp. All the first years are excited about it - and so is Noya, to an extent. He’s looking forward to training together and hanging out, but he hasn’t forgotten what Tanaka said to him about sleeping and bathing with the team. It could all get awkward - and potentially dangerous - really quickly. It’s not as though he’s scared of anyone on the team or thinks that any of them would outright attack him; he’s pretty scrappy besides, and he’s fairly certain he could take most of them on in a fight and at least get away, even if he couldn’t win.
But there’s still fear. A deeply-rooted chill clouds the back of his mind while he runs, mechanically chanting along with everyone as they jog towards the edge of campus. Just because someone doesn’t seem combative, doesn’t seem like a bigot... there’s always a chance. There’s always the possibility that it could go so south, so quickly. The thought of being rejected by the team is enough even to phase Yū, who seems so thoroughly unflappable - and usually is! Today he’s out of it, though. Ryu argues back and forth with Chikara instead and in his daze, Noya even starts to drift towards the back of the pack, his stride slowed by occupying thoughts.
“Hey, uh, Nishinoya-san?”
The voice drags him out of his staring contest with the back of Narita’s t-shirt. He blinks those big copper eyes as he turns to his left, where Azumane is easily keeping pace with him. Noya was so distracted he even managed to miss the older boy’s approach.
“Oh, hey!” he chirps and sunshine returns to his face, easy smile pressed into his cheeks. “What’s up?”
“I just-- I wanted to thank you, Nishinoya-san--”
“You can just call me Noya,” he interjects, smile going lopsided while he lofts a brow in Azumane’s direction. “No reason to be all formal.”
Asahi’s cheeks go faintly pink out of embarrassment rather than exertion and something in Nishinoya’s gut does a somersault, but he keeps up his grin.
“N… Noya,” Azumane starts again, glancing over from where his eyes had hit the ground to catch the smaller boy beaming at him. “I just-- I wanted to thank you, for the other day.”
The afternoon the two of them sat against the back wall of the gym and talked comes flooding back and Yū’s grin grows a little. “Any time,” he replies, cheerful as ever, and watches as his taller counterpart goes bashful again, eyes on the pavement. Noya tilts his head to one side, leaning forward and craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Asahi’s downturned face. “Something wrong?” he asks, curious, and softens his expression.
“I, um.” Azumane starts, then stops, tucking back a strand of hair when it falls out of his elastic. “I was just thinking, you’re-- you’re not like me at all.”
It’s the sort of open-ended statement that could mean a lot of different things. Noya’s face squinches up, his nose wrinkled and lips pursed in an almost-frown. It takes his companion a second to notice, his own expression going mildly horrified when he does; his eyes widen and he sputters to backtrack.
“I just-- I mean that I’m not… I’m not-- brave,” his strides slow while he reaches up to rub the back of his head, loosing a few more strands from his ponytail. “You just-- you seem so… fearless.”
Yū’s pace slackens, mind no longer concerned with their teammates growing farther away from them, and when Asahi says that word - fearless - he slows to a stop, arms at his side and brows pinched in the middle.
“You think I’m fearless?”
Azumane comes to a halt a few paces ahead of him and turns to look back, face flushed. He swallows and nods once tentatively and then again, more forcefully the second time.
“Yeah, I do.”
For several beats, there is silence, two figures stock still and staring at each other. Noya is almost hunting for tells, searching for dishonesty in Asahi’s strained expression while his own remains tense with something akin to concern.
Fearless. It’s not a word he would use to describe himself, not really; everyone’s afraid of something, even him. But the sentiment holds weight - and what’s more, it reminds him of something.
You know what’s so bad about bein’ scared, Yū?
“Thanks, Azumane-senpai,” he says, cutting through the quiet ambiance of suburban traffic and birds in nearby trees.
The older boy smiles, wider than before but still a little sheepish, and shrugs a shoulder. “You can just call me ‘Asahi’,” he says, and Noya feels the grin split across his face.
“Thanks, Asahi-san.”
----
The next day, before afternoon practice, Tanaka and Nishinoya are changing and the latter is unusually quiet. The former eventually follows suit, but only because trying to find something of common interest when your conversation partner is damn near silent is incredibly awkward. They’re both pulling their shirts over their heads when Noya finally breaks the stillness of the near-empty classroom.
“I want to tell them.”
Ryu glances over, eyebrows raised.
“The team, I mean. I want to tell them. About me.”
The added explanation earns an accepting nod, though the brows remain lofted.
“What is-- how do you want to do that?” he asks and Noya sucks in a deep breath through his nose as though preparing a lengthy rant, then exhales in one big, short puff.
“I have no idea.”
Silence falls again and continues for a few beats; the tension breaks when Tanaka barks out a laugh, his head hung low.
“I’m sorry, it’s not funny,” he manages between gasps of air, “But it kind of is.”
Yū tries to be irritated, but he can’t help the crooked grin that’s pushing into his cheek. “You’re a dick.”
“Takes one to know one,” Ryu counters without hesitation, tugging down his t-shirt to straighten it out. “Seriously though, what are you thinking?”
“I guess I… about as far as I’ve gotten is doing it at the end of practice. ‘Least that way I’ll have like… a good memory or whatever, in case they kick me out after.”
“I really don’t think that’s gonna happen, man, but I feel you.”
There’s quiet again for a few moments before Noya speaks.
“I’m gonna do it today.”
“Today?!” Tanaka balks, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Noya still hasn’t gotten over the new cue ball haircut; it makes him look even more like a muppet.
“I mean, there’s no time like the present, right? Plus Golden Week is soon,” Yū replies as he stuffs his uniform into his gym bag. “Also, I’d like to actually use the club room at some point, you know?”
The grin on his face is wide but Ryu can see that his eyes don’t quite match. He takes a slow breath, considering, and then nods and hoists his own bag over his shoulder. “You want me to do anything while it happens?” he asks and Noya’s grin goes softer, but now there are fond creases around his eyes.
“Stand with me, I guess?”
“You got it, bruh.”
“Thanks, man.”
----
The closer they draw to the end of the day, the less focused Noya gets on practice. A few spikes blow right past him during scrimmage and he curses inwardly, forcing himself to laugh on the outside instead. “Just an off day, I guess,” he offers and while it is, he and Ryu both know that that’s not the whole story.
Everyone breaks off to clean the gym before Daichi calls the club to attention for dismissal. Noya stands next to Tanaka, his hands fisted in the hem of his t-shirt and his shoulders tense; his taller friend tries not to appear as concerned as he really is.
“So yeah, if that’s everything, I think it’s time we--”
“Ac-- actually, Daichi-san, there’s something I-- I have something I need to talk about.”
Everyone turns to look at him. Yū is certain that he is pale as a ghost and suddenly feels about half his usual height. Awkward silence follows for a few seconds before Tanaka reaches out and gives his best friend an encouraging smack between the shoulder blades, ushering them both towards the front of the group.
“So, uh,” Noya starts, then stops. He’s acting weird, even for him. Suddenly he wishes he had put more thought into what he was actually going to say because his somewhat limited vocabulary is failing him, as are his attempts to breathe. Another whack lands against his back and he clears his throat before trying again.
“I’m trans.”
The silence is unbearable. It stretches on awkwardly while he stares at the ground, trying to will himself to look at his teammates. If they’re disgusted, it’s better to know, right? Better to get it out of the way so that he can move on with his life, find a new hobby, new friends? He has to look, but he finds that he can’t, his eyes glued to the glossy floorboards. Maybe the art club would take him. Fuck, why doesn’t he try harder at other extracurriculars?
“You might need to give ‘em a little more than that, my dude,” Tanaka whispers, giving Nishinoya a gentle elbow to the side.
Nishinoya takes a steadying breath and tries to reorder his mental talking points.
“When I was born, the doctors decided I was a girl, so that’s what it says on my koseki. But I’m definitely not. I’ve always been a dude, my body just doesn’t match, like by… by societal standards, or whatever. So if you could all keep calling me Noya and he and stuff, that… that would be great. I just wanted everyone to know so it’s not… like I didn’t want to surprise anyone at Golden Week or if I change in the club room, or something.”
He still can’t pick up his eyes. They stay on the floor while he twists his hands in the fabric of his shorts, his skin both hot and cold, his ears burning. He has to look. He knows he has to look. He needs to know what’s coming at him, but it’s like he’s got lead weights tied to his ears, keeping him looking down.
You seem so… fearless.
It bounces around inside his head like an echo, half-taunting and half-encouraging.
Fearless.
He is not some shrinking violet who evaporates under pressure. He is not a mouse. He is not a wuss who can’t stand up for himself. He is Nishinoya Yū and he is trans and he is fearless.
He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and lifts his head, stealing his expression into an expectant stare while he puffs out his chest.
Everyone looks… surprised. No one appears outwardly disgusted, so that’s a start. Instead they’re all staring with wide eyes and tight lips, like they have no idea what to say. Tanaka shifts awkwardly beside him and Noya can practically feel him restraining the scowl he wants to threaten everyone with. Yū is the first to break the silence, balling his hands up into fists before setting them on his hips.
“I want to stay on the team, but if anyone’s got problems, I ain’t gonna stick around.”
Everyone speaks all at once. It’s a chorus of ‘don’t leave’ s and ‘no one said that ’s and ‘of course we want you to stay ’s, all frantic and layered on top of each other to create a din loud enough to be heard from outside. Sawamura sticks his arm authoritatively out in front of the team to stop the chatter, then takes a step forward.
“If anyone’s got a problem with it,” he begins and claps a heavy hand on Yū’s shoulder, “They’ll have to go through us.”
Noya glances up to find his captain looking at him with kind eyes and a warm smile.
“I can’t promise we’ll understand everything right away, but we’re a team. I know everyone will try.”
Tanaka chimes in with another hand on the opposite shoulder. “If anyone talks shit, I’ll peck out their eyeballs,” he says definitively and a laugh bursts out of Noya, whose eyes feel inexplicably hot. He lifts an arm to scrub at them, silencing the emotions that want to bubble out of him, and then pulls it down and pins it to his side with a deep breath and a beaming grin.
“Well… alright then,” he agrees, the rest of his words caught in a net of fondness and warmth, and submits to hair ruffles and affectionate pats on the back from his teammates.
----
In the sweltering heat of mid-July, Nishinoya’s skin starts to itch. The layers under his shirt are uncomfortable on a good day but when he’s tired before it’s even time for afternoon practice, he knows it’s not going to be a good day at all. Even the human battery pack can’t be energetic all the time, right? But he still feels a twist of guilt over it when he shuffles into the stuffy club room and sees the concerned looks on the second years’ faces.
No one’s said anything about it in the month and a half since he came out, the compression bandages he keeps wrapped around his chest. Worry over it gnaws at him regularly; he wonders if it’ll ever go away, though he figures probably not. It’s one of those things about being other, about being something that goes against the norm that sticks with a person, hangs like a dark cloud over their head.
Most days, he can ignore it. He can ignore the heat rash as long as he treats it and he can ignore the anxiety if Ryu is standing beside him, yapping away about the anime that they’re both watching or the new game that just came out. They’ve been best friends since that day in his homeroom and his other year-mates are all good guys. Hisashi and Chikara and Kazuhito would have gotten their asses handed to them if they said anything sideways about it, what with the way Ryu threatened any hypothetical naysayers, but they've all shown that they're not the type, that they value him just as highly as they did before.
The club room is his safe space. It’s not the team’s fault that some days, no space feels entirely safe.
He’s reaching up to pull his t-shirt off over his head when Sugawara stops him.
“Hey, Noya?”
He turns to find everyone looking at him, some head-on and some sidelong, and his eyes go wide with concern.
“Uh… yeah?”
“Listen, before you change, I got you something - we all did.”
A package is pulled from behind Suga’s back, a flat, droopy square wrapped in delicate blue tissue paper. It only falls short of looking like a present because there is no bow, but the intent is still clear. Noya looks down at it in confusion and slowly lifts his hands to accept it, feeling the weight of cloth hidden inside.
“What’s…?”
“Just open it, ya goob,” Tanaka grouses half-heartedly, unconvincing because of the grin pushing itself onto his face.
Noya shoots him a glare that is 90% put-on and does as he’s told, fingers undoing the intricate folds in the paper until it can be crumpled up under his arm. What he finds inside makes his breath catch in his throat.
“We asked your sisters about your size, I hope that’s okay,” Suga supplies, hands pressed together in front of him. “If it’s uncomfortable, the store said we can exchange it, so make sure it fits, okay? There’s a card in there that explains how.”
Noya’s face burns with heat that is not at all related to the weather. It pushes at the backs of his eyes and overtakes his lungs and when he opens his mouth, he has to close it immediately for fear of what might tumble out. Elastic black fabric flexes between his small fingers as he feels along the row of snaps that create a closure on one side, his chest swelling up with emotion.
“You guys…” he starts, voice thick and wet, and has to stop to press the back of his wrist against his eye, his face twisted up into something ugly and overwhelmed. Suga appears at his side immediately, wraps an arm around his shoulders and strokes lovingly up and down along his bicep.
“Gotta make sure you’ve got the right gear, right?” he offers, voice as soft as the rest of him. “This is just as important as knee pads or shoes.”
“I can’t believe you did this,” Noya squeaks as other team members take turns ruffling the hair on his bowed head or adding affectionate pats to his shoulders. “All of you, I--”
“It was Asahi’s idea,” Daichi points out and flashes a devious grin at the sight of the gentle giant cowering off to one side, his fingers twisting into the hem of his t-shirt. Nishinoya looks up with tears brimming in his water line and a smile that’s so saturated with emotion, it almost looks pained. Asahi flushes and looks away, reaching up to rub the back of his head.
“I just, I-- uh,” he stammers, clears his throat, tries again. “I read that… that binding with bandages isn’t safe, so I-- I just thought--”
“Thank you,” Noya interrupts, voice still sticking in his throat. His smile trembles as he looks from Asahi to Suga to the kindhearted people around him, then down at the brand new chest binder in his hands. “Thank you.”