Chapter Text
Shouto knew he was a boy from a young age, ofcourse not as young as cis boys, but still. His Parents never really cared, with his mom rarely seeing him and his Father only using it as a way to obey.
He’d call the toddler a boy if he did good and a useless girl, if he didn’t. Saying things like „a boy could’ve done that“ or „a boy would want to do this, he wouldn’t need to be convinced“
As time went on and Shouto grew, his father rarely dangled Pronouns or Names over his head, as punishment. With 10 it became a legal name change, with 13 Testosterone and now with 15 he talked about, how if Shouto were to follow in his steps, he’d pull some strings and get him Top surgery asap.
But young Todoroki had had it with his old man. As soon as he got admitted to UA he started ignoring the guy completely. He didn’t need someone who only conditionally saw him as he was. His classmates saw him as just another Boy and that was all the confidence he needed.
After being in Household, where strength and stoicism meant masculinity; emotions and weakness meant femininity, imagine Shoutos surprise when his classmates cried on the daily.
Not even because they were hurt of frustrated, just to express emotions.
The first time he really realised it, was at the sports festival. Midoriya had basically thrown the fight and told him to embrace his Fire, that it didn’t belong to his father. And when he started gathering strength for the finishing blow, he saw it. Fat Round tears dripping down his opponent’s face. Not because he was about to lose, but because he helped Shouto.
After that it was like it is with yellow cars, once you start thinking about it, you start to see it everywhere. Kirishima crying while forcing Bakugo into a hug. Classrep Iidas happy tears whenever he is able to help.
Even All might, wiping away something shiny from the corner of his eyes while watching Midoriya fight. Endeavour never looked at him like that, like a proud father. He looked like someone whos shiny, new car had broken down. But instead of trying to fix it, his father just kicked at the tires in frustration.
He wanted to try this new form of self expression, trying to free himself from the last grip his father had on him. However he couldn’t. The second his voice got too expressive, he heard his older Sister. When he thought to share his emotions, Shoutos voice would go up three octaves and made him sound like a prepubescent girl.
So he didn’t. He watched his classmates express themselves freely, while he sat quiet in a corner, only venting his frustration during combat.
And time went on, he was careful to not burn the clothes hiding his tape, with which he bound his chest. Binders would need to be removed daily and limit his combat ability. Not to mention the costs if he accidentally burned one. The Tape would last him a week without needing to be taken off, if he did it right.
There were only a few times where his secret managed to come out… before the incident-