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Shouta doesn’t look into the mirror often. It’s not because he hates his appearance or anything, he worked hard to get as strong as he is and while he doesn’t feel any pride for his scars, they do show that because of him, others didn’t get hurt like this. So Shouta doesn’t hate his appearance, he just doesn’t much care for it either. But now he’s looking and it wasn’t even because of anything big. Shouta is used to students calling him “dad”, especially his Hell Class. He doesn’t connect much with the title, though knowing his students trust him on that level is flattering.
Then, earlier today, Jirou slipped up. She called Shouta “mom”. And Shouta has been called mom before, mostly mockingly when he was showing concern over his students. Normally, Shouta would just scoff or roll his eyes, but this time it was different. Jirou was obviously tired, and she called him mom in the same way other students have called him dad before. By accident, meaning the title as much as any other meant the title dad.
Shouta stares at the mirror. He has a stubble, and dark eyebags, and his face looks like he’s constantly frowning. He tilts his head to the side. He looks the same as he has looked the last time Shouta looked in the mirror, the same as he has always looked, only older. He pulls at his hair slightly, straightening out the light curls before he lets it go again. If it were straight, it would reach down his back instead of just falling to his shoulders.
There is no reason for him to be feeling this way. Being called mom by a student shouldn’t be any different than being called dad. Only somehow, it is. It’s different and Shouta doesn’t understand why. He hears Hizashi approach before he sees him in the mirror, coming up behind him.
“What’s up, Sho?”
Hizashi hooks his chin over Shouta’s shoulder, arms wrapping around him in a loose hug. Shouta leans into his husband ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving the mirror. He tugs at his hair again. He feels like something should have changed, like something should be different. But everything is the same as it always has been. He sighs.
“I don’t know, ‘zashi.”
Hizashi spins him around and presses a kiss against his cheek before his husband starts pulling Shouta away from the mirror. They get ready for bed and Hizashi chatters about his day, not minding that Shouta doesn’t really give an answer to anything he says outside of humming to show that he is still listening. He kisses his husband good-night and Hizashi holds him close until they fall asleep.
Hizashi doesn’t bring the situation up again, though Shouta knows his husband hasn’t forgotten. He’s just waiting for Shouta to be willing to talk to him. Shouta can’t forget either. Jirou hasn’t called him mom again, neither have any of the other students, but the word keeps swirling around in Shouta’s head. He never minds when a student calls him dad, but being called mom was warmer, somehow. So two months after it happened, when Shouta sits on the couch next to Hizashi, some kind of cooking show providing background noise, he brings it up.
“Jirou called me mom.”
Hizashi turns to look at him, a question clear in his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. If he said something, Shouta doesn’t know if he could answer. His husband knows that, he understands when to push Shouta and when to give him time. It’s one of the reasons Shouta loves him.
“Last month, when I was acting off.”
Hizashi turns towards him fully now, paying no mind to the TV, or even the notebook he was doodling in. Shouta doesn’t turn to face him. He has thought about this a lot, what it means that he’s so comfortable with being called mom. He tried some stuff out, he thought of himself as Hizashi’s wive, tried to figure out how he feels about things, but it’s hard to do on his own. He never felt wrong in his body like Hizashi described, one night when they were fresh out of UA and someone who knew Hizashi from elementary school deemed it okay to call him a woman in front of a dozen strangers in the middle of the street.
Hizashi has known that he is a man since he was a kid. He came out in middle school and his parents have always supported him. It’s different for Shouta. He’s in his thirties now. And sure, he doesn’t feel much of a connection to his body on any other level than pride when he gets stronger, or the knowledge of movement when he’s using his capture weapon, but that’s different. Shouta has never felt dysphoric like how Hizashi described it. He doesn’t hate being called a man, he doesn’t mind when students slip up and call him dad, he likes his name. He likes being Hizashi’s husband. Still, he needs to talk about this with someone. He needs to be sure.
“I’ve been thinking about it and…”
Shouta turns to Hizashi when his husband takes his hands. He hesitates for a moment, then continues speaking.
“I liked it. Being called mom. So I tried out different language in my head. Hizashi, I think I might be a woman. Or at least I’m not a man.”
Hizashi brings Shouta’s hands to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.
“Okay, Sho. Do you want to try out different pronouns?”
Shouta leans into his husband with a small sigh.
“Yes, but just at home for now. I want to see if it fits first.”
Hizashi nods and lets Shouta cuddle more into his chest. They keep watching TV in silence, Hizashi’s fingers slowly carding through Shouta’s hair and Shouta falls asleep against his husband. He didn’t notice how tired he was, thinking about all this. Shouta is exhausted, more so than usual. He wakes up when Hizashi picks him up. Shouta opens an eye and glares at his husband.
“What are you doing?”
Hizashi grins at him.
“Well, I can’t just let my wife sleep on the couch now, can I? She’ll just be grumpy in the morning.”
Hizashi winks and Shouta can feel warmth spread through his entire body. Her entire body. Shouta likes this, being called Hizashi’s wife, this is nice. Yes, she made the right decision. This is good. She closes her eye again and leans further into Hizashi’s hold.
“Fine.”
She lets her husband carry her to bed and when she falls asleep again, it’s with the knowledge that she has made a good decision.
Shouta doesn’t change anything about her appearance. She doesn’t shave, or wear make-up. That just seems like too much work. And still, when she looks into the mirror, she feels ever so slightly more at home. Nemuri is the second person to know about her change of pronouns, though Shouta decides to keep her name. She likes it.
Nemuri, as Shouta expected, is very excited for her. She first insists on taking Shouta shopping, but when she refuses, Nemuri insists on at least doing a fashion show with the clothes she has in her apartment. Which leads to now, with Shouta looking through Nemuri’s wardrobe in the hopes of finding something that both fits and isn’t too far away from her usual style. She avoids the crop tops and most skin-tight clothes, but she does pick out some skirts and more casual clothes she knows Nemuri enjoys wearing when she relaxes. It’s different from Shouta’s normal style, but she never really cared what color her clothes are, so it’s note bad. Shouta ends up taking two skirts home with her because while they’re impractical for fighting, they’re comfortable enough to be worn for naps.
The next one to know of Shouta’s change of pronouns is, of course, Nedzu. Not because Shouta told the principal about it, but simply because Nedzu knows, at some point. Shouta isn’t sure where Nedzu got this information, but during one of their regular meetings, Nedzu asks her how public she wants to make this change. Shouta doesn’t ask for Nedzu’s sources, nor for his help with anything. She doesn’t need any official changes, she just wants those that are worth her time to use the correct pronouns. Anything else doesn’t matter.
One week later, Shouta decides it’s time to let the rest of the school know. She will tell the other teachers during break time, but she needs to tell her Hell Class first. So Shouta is standing in front of her students, glaring at them as they shift in their chairs. She sighs.
“Right. Listen up, because I will only say this once and anyone who willfully ignores this rule will be punished by either me or another teacher.”
She straightens up and takes the time to look every single student in the eye. She doesn’t look any different from yesterday, from last week, from before she figured all of this out, but she feels different. More stable in a way she can’t describe.
“I will be going by she/her pronouns from now on. In English, you will exclusively refer to me as Miss Aizawa. That’s all.”
She leans down to get her sleeping back. Her students are supposed to have study time now, though she knows they probably won’t get much work done. That’s fine. As long as they don’t cause trouble, that’s fine. Shouta lays down and pretends to sleep while she watches her class’ reaction. If any of them react too badly, if any of them can’t get used to this quickly, she will expel them. There is no use in a hero who does not respect a person’s identity. But, despite the whispering, they all seem to take it well. Shouta especially pays attention to some of her students that seem to perk up. Uraraka’s eyes are bright. Kirishima is leaning towards Kaminari and grinning at his friend. Yaoyorozu is smiling softly. Hagakure has stood up and is now excitedly, if quietly, talking to Ojirou. Shouta closes her eyes. Yes, these problem children will be great heroes.
And when, two weeks later, the teachers have to break up a fight between multiple students from Shouta’s class and a second year student who has refused to talk to Shouta since she came out, Shouta knows that even if they still have a lot to learn, she was right in keeping all of her students around. She still gives those involved extra assignments, of course. Heroes can’t fight people just because they’re stupid. But it does make her feel better when she hears Bakugou grumble about her being “such a mom” under his breath.