Chapter Text
Hifumi had never been to Shinjuku during its prime hours before- never been allowed, really -but she’d never imagined just how crowded it felt. The streets weren’t as jammed as Shibuya or even Akihabara, but each shop and person felt, well, loud. She could feel the buzz in the air there, feel the eyes stuck to her prim blazer and smart slacks like a wad of gum. Either it was painfully clear to everyone that she didn’t belong, or she had something on her face. Hifumi knew deep down it was the first, but hoped for the latter.
She didn’t belong in Shinjuku. She hadn’t belonged in her parent’s perfect world, not in any mold they’d tried to push her into. Perhaps she should have been used to feeling out of place by then, but it still made her stomach coil and her chest tighten. Being out on the street like that couldn’t be good for her, but that wasn’t enough to convince her to find a bar to duck into. A pack of what she could only assume were Yakuza sure did the trick though.
Without taking a glance at the neon sign above the door, Hifumi ducked into the nearest one. It seemed to be rather deserted compared to the others she’d glanced at through the windows, but in all honesty, it suited her just fine. The whole room was lowly lit, most of the lights glittering shades of warm pinks. She could’ve sworn the place was filled with a light sort of fog, almost like the cigarette smoke she’d seen wafting from worn business men, but all she could smell was something light and floral. Sakura, or, lilac?
“First time here, darling?” Shocked out of her scanning by a gruff voice, Hifumi finally looked over at the bar itself. The, uhm, larger woman wiping a glass clean grinned at her, somewhere between a shark and something oddly warm. “I can always tell, so don’t lie to me now.”
Clearing her throat, she responded. “Y-yes ma’am-”
“Tsk, none of that here. Lala Escargot, that’s my name. And you better use it honey.” The woman- Lala, Hifumi corrected herself -looked away from the nervous woman in her doorway to a shouting customer from one of the far booths. “Sorry hon, a regular calls. Find a booth, I’ll send Aki-chan to sort you out.”
Understanding only part of those instructions, all she could do was nod and find a clean booth. Despite the clear age of the red leather seats, they were still rather comfy. If things worked out, Hifumi would have to make this place her regular bar.
She wasn’t left alone for long. Mere seconds after she took her phone out to check how much battery remained, someone stopped at the edge of her booth.
And, oh wow, that woman was rather gorgeous. Her outfit looked like some mockery of a police woman’s, especially since it was much more sensual than anything an officer would actually wear. The top was cut low, but Hifumi was less drawn in by the way the outfit highlighted her natural assets, but the smooth, pretty face framed by long, supple black curls. And, holy shit, her lips looked so plump, and not to mention those dark eyes!
The woman must have noticed her staring, if the grin growing on her face was anything to go by. “Hey, welcome to Crossroads. I’m Aki-chan, what would you like me to call you?”
“To-” no, she almost said her family name. That wasn’t hers anymore though, was it? “Uhm, Hifumi, please.”
Aki-chan’s grin turned into a soft, knowing smile, and she slid onto the opposite bench. She kept her eyes on Hifumi, but the feeling wasn’t gross, or imposing. It almost felt welcoming, a little searching, sure, but it felt nice. “So, are you aware of our reputation here, or was this a happy little accident?”
“Reputation?” Oh dear, what had she gotten into? Was this some sort of criminal bar? Oh no, was Aki-chan going to try to sell herself to Hifumi? Actually, well, if she wasn’t in a current crisis- no! Bad thoughts! “I’m sorry, I know nothing of this place.”
The other woman didn’t seem surprised. “Yeah, I had a feeling. Crossroads is Shinjuku’s queer hotspot. We’re known for our more, eccentric guests.”
Oh. Oh. That, explained a bit. That was probably the reason it wasn’t packed despite the wonderful atmosphere. “Oh.”
“Now, I’m going to make a bit of an assumption here, so feel free to tell me off.” Aki-chan leaned on the table, and- yup, her top was very low cut. Hifumi’s mouth was feeling a little dry. “Based on my woman’s intuition, I’d say that you match our clientel, yes?”
It took a lot for Hifumi to gather the strength to simply nod. She felt better afterwards, especially when she was met with a kind smile and not shouts and insults. Wow, what a difference that made. “Yes, I believe I fall under that umbrella.”
“Glad to know my queer radar is still working!” The other joked, finally leaning back in her seat. “Now, I’m no stranger to seeing folks like us wandering around with that lost look you had when you came in. Do you wanna talk? Mama Lala says I’m a great listener.”
Hifumi had only just met Aki-chan, yet, she felt like she could tell her anything. Everything. Maybe it was because she was the first person to be kind to her in what felt like forever, or that she was somehow like Hifumi, and might understand. Hell if she knew. “I guess, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll fetch us some water and then you can tell me all about what’s troubling you.”
Hifumi wasn’t born a woman. No, she wasn’t that fortunate at all. Her parents had been overjoyed at having a son, someone to raise to be the next Shoji champion, just like her father had been, and his father, and so forth. Her whole childhood was filled with rules and matches, feeling like her own skin was mocking her. It got worse as she got older, as most things do.
Her father would scowl if she cried. Her mother yelled when she found her in her closet, reminding her skirts were for girls. Shogi was the only time Hifumi could have any sort of self expression, and even then she was repeatedly shoved back into her seat with a reminder to stay silent.
Once she’d gotten old enough, she booked herself an appointment with a psychiatrist. She kept it from her parents, and kept everything as secretive as she could. All she wanted originally was an explanation for why she hated herself so vilely, why she hated the mirror, and photos, and reminders that she had grown into a ‘lovely young man’.
So, as one may guess, Hifumi discovered she was trans. It wasn’t freeing to find, but it felt like a death sentence at the time. There was no way her parents would support that kind of thing. If she came out to them, they’d have her put away for insanity, or worse.
But she couldn’t go on as a man. Not for very long, at least. Something had to be done, and she made a choice that set her up for what was shaping up to be the worst year of her life.
“My mother found out from the pharmacist. About the hormones. That was, last week? And, well, at the moment I’m staying in a hotel room while I try to find somewhere to stay.”
Aki-chan had been silent the whole time Hifumi spoke, yet she never looked disinterested. “Ah, I see now. So we do have that in common. Shitty parents, I mean.”
“You got kicked out too?” That was a surprise to her. Was it that common for queer people to be removed from their families?
She nodded, smile turning a little sad. “Sorta. They haven’t spoken to me since I came to Tokyo, and I don’t expect to be in the will. Let’s just say they wouldn’t be fond of hearing their son likes to dress like a woman and lives with his boyfriend.”
“Son?” What. But, what? How could that be? Hifumi thought she was losing her mind. Aki-chan had such a feminine voice, and, and boobs! “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Laughing softly, Aki-chan reached up and revealed that her long hair had been just a wig all along. She- he handled the wig with care, laying it out on the table gently. “Sorry if I deceived you. I’m guessing you’ve never been around a Drag Queen before?”
“A what?”
Aki-chan looked almost like she was gonna burst at that admission. “Oh, you poor poor sheltered baby queer. Here, let me go change and we can talk about this some more.”
While her new companion disappears, Hifumi picks at her fingernails. It had become a nervous habit of hers, replacing her childhood habit of chewing them. Her father used to smack her hands away from her mouth, bark at her mother to stick something overly spicy to the nails. Ha, she almost had to laugh. Well, they weren’t around to make her stop anymore.
The temptation wasn’t as strong as before, especially with the clear coat of polish on them.
“Sorry, it’s always a hassle getting all that leather off after a long shift.” Aki-chan was back, and holy shit, his outfit couldn’t have been more different. Gone was the sexy look from before. Rather, hifumi found herself sitting across from someone she’d probably overlook anywhere else. The dark, messy hair, those very plain glasses, the simple dark blazer over a shirt only a touch lighter- it was like experiencing whiplash. “Let me introduce myself again. Kurusu Akira, nice to meet you Hifumi.”
Stunned into complete silence, there wasn’t much she could do but nod. While Aki-chan had been filled to the brim with that heady, thick female charm, Akira managed to be just as captivating despite his bland appearance. It was like the man oozed this, friendly essence. Hifumi felt like she could trust him with her life.
“You’re new to everything queer, correct?” Akira asked it so pleasantly. He wasn’t looking down on her for coming to this conclusion about herself late, or knowing little. If she were a religious person, she’d think he was a saint.
Hifumi nodded simply. Her fingernails dug into the fatty flesh by her thumbs.
Nodding back, her new companion settled into the booth after a single glance at his phone. “Okay, lovely. Don’t worry, this isn’t my first rodeo. If I say anything that confuses you, just speak up. I won’t mind, and any questions you have won’t be the worst I’ve gotten. By far .”
“Sure,” that last bit had her mind in a chokehold. Just what kind of questions had he been asked?
“I think the best way to start would be to simply say I’m cisgender. Born male, express myself primarily male.” Okay, those were terms Hifumi had learned from her limited sessions with her therapist. That meant Akira was AMAB, just like her. “That’s where simple stops for most people. Drag itself is, an art. One friend of mine once described Aki-chan as my artwork in the drag medium, but I still barely understand what he meant myself.”
Hifumi knew very little about art. It was a shame, really, that she’d never gotten to dive into that area of the classical upper class upbringing. “I’m sorry, but that hasn’t cleared anything up for me.”
“Oh,” Akira waved his hand, “I assumed as much. You carry yourself like this other friend of mine, all serious.” Was that supposed to be a compliment? “Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep things logical from here on.”
He happed his fingers on the table, in what seemed to be a random pattern. It certainly didn’t match the music pumping through the bar. “I’m Akira, but, sometimes I take on this other persona. Almost like a mask, or a role, but she’s- Aki-chan, that is -she’s made up of, well, me.”
“So, sometimes you’re a woman?” Gender was confusing, that much she knew. The idea of someone feeling differently every other minute made Hifumi’s stomach turn uncomfortably. It reminded her a little of nights tossing and turning in bed, overtaken by dysphoric thoughts. “Or, feel like one? Is that not dysphoria?”
Dark curls bounced as he shook his head. “That’s not quite it. I’m very comfortable as a man, and in my gender identity. Aki-chan is, a performance. All the important parts, like her confidence and her wit, come from me. It’s like how actors put themselves into the characters they play.”
“Aki-chan is a character then?”
Akira chuckled, a fond little smile on his face. “In a way. Drag is, again, art. It’s the art of playing with what gender means, as a construct. Some drag kings are women dressing as men and making a mockery of the ideas of masculinity. Others use their performance to highlight the best parts.
“And some drag kings are men, or aren’t either, or are both. The same goes for drag queens.” Hifumi assumed she correctly guessed the difference between a king and a queen. That would make Akira a queen, just like he’d said earlier. “Drag pushes at how society thinks, but it can also just be, fun.”
She had to take a moment to think it over. It was rather easy to imagine a woman dressing up in a suit with a 5 o’clock shadow painted on her face, exaggerating this ‘toxic masculinity’ that Hifumi has been learning more of recently. Or even the reverse.
But, Aki-chan didn’t feel like a mockery. Akira had been very convincing, very, genuine. If he had never taken off his wig, Hifumi never would have known. A small, sad little part of her felt jealous of that. She took hormones, did specific exercises, trained her voice, only to still be seen as male by most around her. Yet, Akira could just become a woman so easily, and it was for his own amusement.
Hifumi felt bad almost immediately. She was, though, still very confused. How come no one warned her that being queer would be so confusing? “I’m still quite lost. You’re a man, you dress as a woman, and?”
Akira seemed to really think about his words, sitting silently for a long moment. “Inside, I’m always Akira . But, when I’m here, I put on that wig, and Akira takes a back seat. I’m still Akira when I’m Aki-chan. She’s just one of the many masks I wear. She’s this amazing queen who’s beautiful, and fabulous, and most definitely a criminal.” He chuckled to himself, cupping a hand around his mouth, so his next words were just between the two of them. “Just like most cops, huh?”
“...Aki-chan is mocking the police,” Hifumi realized, feeling proud when Akira grinned and gave her a thumbs up.
“Exactly, my young student!” Despite how he had tried to keep his previous statement lowkey, he cheered loudly. Still, the older sloshed woman Lala was tending to was much louder. “At the end of the day, I take off the makeup and go home, feeling proud.”
Akira had done a wonderful job of explaining it all to Hifumi, who was slowly starting to piece it together. Drag was about saying something, making a statement. Some were about societal takes on gender, and some were like Aki-chan, tackling wider issues in a roundabout way.
That’s when a thought fought it’s way to the front of her mind. “Do some trans people do drag? To, well, mock who they were pretending to be?”
“I’ve never met a trans drag artist, but you’ll come to learn that when it comes to queer people, the possibilities are endless.” Akira checked his phone again, something he’d been subtlety doing the entire time they spoke. This time, he smiled, a glint in his dark eyes. “You said you were staying in a hotel?”
The sudden switch in topics nearly made her head spin. “Well, yes, I did say that. I am currently looking for someone more permanent, or at least, not a hotel.”
“Perfect! Your search is over, I have a place for you to crash for now.”
“Excuse me?” She had to have heard him wrong. That was the only logical conclusion, right? She had just met Akira mere hours ago, he had no reason to try to help her out like this. “Why would you do such a thing? For a stranger?”
The man simply shrugged, that kind smile still on his face. All in all, he had been putting Hifumi more at ease than she’d ever felt. If he was a serial killer, he would be too good at his job. “I was once where you were. Life can be hard for people like us. So, what do you say? Want a place to stay?”
Really, it should have been an easy answer. Her whole life, Hifumi had been raised with a deep distrust of others. Her father told her that all they wanted was her status. Her mother told her they were after her money. Now, with neither, what was there to really worry about? If she died here, there wasn’t really anyone that would care.
Wow, how depressing. How had her life become so sad?
“I mean, if you’re willing to offer one, how can I say no?” Could she even afford to say no? Her savings would only last her so long, and it would be hard to find a place without a job, and near impossible to get a job while living out of a hotel. “Are you sure they’d be okay housing someone like me?”
Akira barked out a laugh, trying to force the rest down while wheezing apologies. “Sorry, sorry! But there’s no need to worry. My roommates are very understanding, and will probably just leave you alone while we find you a more permanent place.”
“You want me to stay with you?!” That was, okay it was one of the more logical paths of thought, but Hifumi had expected him to find someone else. Though, someone who would be awake at that hour and willing to take in a homeless trans woman? That had to be a rare find.
Her new roommate grinned sharply, standing up from the booth to stretch deeply. “Why wouldn’t I? We had such lovely conversation tonight. Plus, like I said, I’ve been there before. I’d have to be a hypocrit not to. Let’s go get your stuff, my boyfriend and sibling are setting up the guest room for you as we speak.”
She scurried behind him, trying not to stutter as she told him where she had been staying. Trying to follow the events of that evening was like spinning in a desk chair as fast as she could when she was younger, leading to her brain feeling like warm pudding while her eyes continued to spin in her skull. She’d gone from trying to find somewhere to just, consider her options to wandering the red light district. Ducking into a random bar turned into her first night in a real queer space, and now? She had a place to stay.
And she learned about drag. Couldn’t forget that part.
Akira led the conversation as they crossed the city, talking about the others in the apartment- his boyfriend, Akechi Goro, and his little sibling, Sakura Futaba -and how he’d first found Crossroads.
“Mama didn’t want to hire a part timer at first, especially not a university student like me.” That was understandable. Hifumi wouldn’t want to depend on someone with such a flimsy schedule either, especially not when they’d just reached party age. “I got through to her eventually. Crossroads is where I learned about drag, met my boyfriend, and most of my friends. I owe the place a lot, so I’m sure I’ll be bothering Mama for a long time coming.”
The more Akira spoke, the clearer his reason for helping her became. They really were similar. “It really seems to be a magical place. I myself was quite lucky to stumble in there tonight.”
“I’ll add you to our ‘Lives Saved’ counter.” Akira joked. At least, Hifumi hoped it was a joke. “I was studying gender studies then, one of the few people there who were cis and a guy. It was something I’ve always wanted to learn more about.”
Yeah, that, made sense. “I never went to a proper school. Father had me tutored at home, and I spent most of my days practicing my Shogi tactics.”
“Blech!” As they entered her hotel room, Akira fake gagged. Hifumi took the lead in packing her things, listening as her companion kept going. “Ugh, I hate that. One of my friends kinda had that kinda life, but she’s doing a lot better these days. You and her would get along, but I think you’d like her wife more.”
Jeez, how many queer friends could one person have? “Your friends all sound lovely. I hope taking me in won’t take your time away from them. Mind grabbing my jackets from the closet?”
“Got it!” Hifumi carefully folded each of her nice blouses, bought in secret months ago. They meant a lot to her, her first female clothes. “Oh, and don’t worry, you’ll meet them all in time. The second I tell them about you, they’ll run right over.”
Ah, that. That sounded overwhelming. “Perhaps, don’t let them do that.”
“Sorry, yeah, I’ll try to pace it out.” Akira handed over her jackets with a smile, watching her close her small suitcase. “Alright, home we go! ‘Taba will be busy when we get there and Goro sleeps early, so you’ll get to meet them tomorrow.”
What a relief. Hifumi was socially and emotionally drained, to the point that she was even starting to tune Akira’s kind chatter out. The trip to Yongen-Jaya was like a blur to her. Train transfers, Akira taking her elbow to guide her up the stairs to the upper floor apartment, practically dragging her to the guest room.
Sleep came easy to her. She was out almost as soon as she flopped onto the soft bed, drifting off to the chuckles from her newest and probably only friend.