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“This is fucking stupid,” Katsuki says, crumpling up the drawing and throwing it at the wall. Kyouka doesn’t say anything, just leans over in her chair and picks it up, uncrumpling it to look at it.
“It looks fine to me,” she says. “Very you. What’s wrong with it?”
He resists the urge to snatch it from her hands. This is so fucking… It’s not. Weird. To change your costume mid-year. It’s pretty normal, Aizawa-sensei had told him. Many students have ideas for their outfits and once they actually start using them, they realize they’re completely impractical and not going to work. Or their powers develop and change, or how they use them – Half and Half is a good example of that, after he actually started using his fire.
But Katsuki can’t think of any heroes who did this because they decided to transition. He didn’t say that to Aizawa-sensei. His teacher might actually have an example – okay, probably not, but Katsuki can think that for now – but admitting that? To him? Absolutely not.
His first costume… it hid him. Which is crazy to fucking think about because Katsuki doesn’t hide, but it had been thick and covered his body and kept anyone from seeing fucking underneath that.
Even though it had been like, as inflammable as fuck, it had been way too hot. The difference between fighting shitty Deku on their first day vs in the tournament had been crazy. And Katsuki had still tried to swallow that down – other stuff had pissed him off that day, fucking Half and Half – until Beast Jeanist had said something.
He had tutted. “You are swallowing yourself up in those,” he had said, and then forced Katsuki into jeans. Which had been upsettingly fucking nice, wearing those in comparison to his normal, and if goddamn jeans were better than his normal then what the actual fuck was Katsuki doing!?
(Best Jeanist had cut his hair, too, which Katsuki was still begrudgingly pleased with. Yeah, the styling had been shit and he never wants to see gel again, but the cut’s good, after he hacked at it a bit.)
“Come the fuck on,” Katsuki finally bites out, when Kyouka just keeps looking at him. “It looks fucking stupid. And it’s too-” He cuts himself off. He can’t say it.
Kyouka leans forward a little bit, lifting her eyebrows. “Too…?”
He feels- Katsuki hunches down a little bit. He’s wearing a sports bra, today – like every day. Not one with padding or any sort of wire, because some sports bras do have those which fucking sucks even worse, but the kind of sports bra that’s nothing but fabric to just- hold them in place. It’s the most bare minimum he can wear.
He still hates it.
The straps on his shoulders are… okay. They feel like tank top straps, and he doesn’t mind the way that those sit on him. But the way the band feels, how it almost cuts into him… It’s not too small! It’s definitely not too small! He’s worn the shit out of this sucker and it’s quite frankly a miracle he hasn’t stretched it beyond wearing!
It doesn’t matter what he wears. It doesn’t. He hates it.
Katsuki mumbles something, and then he manages to say it louder, scraping out of his throat raw. “I want- it to be like fucking Shitty Hair’s.”
He can’t quite tell what emotion is on Kyouka’s face. He doesn’t try to poke that, doesn’t try to decipher that any further. “You don’t want to wear anything?” she asks.
“I’m not fucking stupid and no.” Kirishima should wear a fucking shirt, or at least change his costume. Katsuki has no idea how those weird shoulder things don’t dig into his skin. “Just-” He feels pathetic. Stupid. “I hate fucking bras.”
Kyouka snorts. “God, same.” When he looks at her with a furrowed brow, she makes a face at him. “What, you think just cause I want a chest that means I want to wear them? I’ve been hunting for a padded one I don’t hate for literally forever, and turning up shit. They’re all uncomfortable.”
Something unwinds in him, a little bit. To hear something like that reflected and echoed, even if it’s in a bit of a different direction. “Then what the hell do you propose we do, if you’re so knowledgeable about this, huh?”
(He wants it to sound like a dig, but it’s not. Katsuki’s never not known her as she is. She seems to have had her fingers in this for a lot longer than him, though he hasn’t quite asked her how long just yet. It’s still nice, to have someone else. He’s not completely alone in this.
That’s why she’s the one here helping him, after all, even if she’s fucking shit at this too.)
Kyouka rolls her eyes at him. “Okay, okay, uhhhh. Keep fucking looking, I guess. We can look together? Weekend shopping trips?”
Honestly, that kind of sounds like his worst nightmare. “You want us to go on bra shopping trips together?” He scowls at her, tipping back in his chair, and throws a different discarded drawing at her head.
Kyouka smacks it aside with one of her earlobes, which is – nice, honestly. She’s been practicing. “Binders, too. They make sports binders.” Katsuki didn’t know that and… they probably can’t be worse than his current situation, so that’s a bit hopeful. “And we ask that pink chick for help.”
What the fuck.
“You want to ask fucking raccoon eyes for help!? What the hell can she do!?”
Kyouka snorts at that. “No, no, not Mina. The one Support student that fought Iida. Or we can ask another support student, I guess, but she seems crazy enough to help.”
His brow furrows as he runs that over. “You want her to… what? Design us better bras? And binders?”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of girl who will back down from a challenge. And until we find someone with a quirk who can swap body parts, seems like our best bet right now.”
That startles a little laugh out of him. It’s kind of weird how he hates that he feels better? Kyouka can’t tell fucking anyone, or he’ll kill her. Not that she would.
“So the gameplan is fucking shopping, ragebaiting the pink chick into building us something better, and illegal quirk registry snooping?” he asks. “What, are we going to ask the League of Villains to-”
Katsuki pauses. Huh. Huh.
“...We could definitely ragebait the fucking League of Villains into helping us.”
Kyouka clearly thinks he’s kidding, and snorts. She roots around in her purse and pulls out a sucker, offering him one, and he takes it. “You are pretty good at ragebaiting them.”
“No, seriously, like at least fucking half of them aren’t cis.” Kyouka chokes a little on her candy, popping it out of her mouth.
“What the fuck? Really?”
“Really.” She leans in enough that her shoulder presses against him, and as he fills her in, it’s… good. Sure, nothing’s fixed, but a gameplan and the reminder he’s not alone?
Katsuki leans in, too.