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The arrival of their mail was always punctual, so when it was an hour late, Izuku began pacing the length of the apartment, straining her ears for any hint of their mailbox screeching open. Two hours and fourteen minutes after their mail was supposed to arrive, Izuku heard their mailbox slam shut. She immediately made a beeline towards the old piece of metal.
Their delivery person was already gone by the time Izuku reached the mailbox. Reaching inside, she pulled out a stack of envelopes. Probably bills. One letter was heftier and larger than the rest and she waited until she was back inside to go through the mail.
Water bill. Rent. Letter from mom probably asking why they don’t visit. Invitation. Scam energy offer—
Wait.
Invitation.
The envelope weighed heavy in her grasp as she gripped it tight enough for the paper to crinkle. She knew what the contents were, and how important they were to her and her boyfriend as heroes. If she was correct, this envelope contained their invitations to this year’s hero rankings gala. An event where they would likely be honored for their valiant efforts for Japan over the past 365 days.
Peeling back the gold seal, she pulled a crisp piece of cardstock from its house. The letter was ivory, with burgundy cursive lettering across the page. Curves requesting their presence at the annual gala.
“Kacchan, we got our invitation for the hero ranking ceremony.” Her voice shook as she read through the letter.
“So what? Why do you sound like you’re gonna piss yourself?” Katsuki yelled from his place on the couch.
“I have to wear a suit.” Tears began to prickle in the corners of Izuku’s eyes. “Wearing a suit makes me want to rip my skin off. You don’t get it.”
“No, I don’t. If it’s that upsetting to you, just wear a dress. You’ll look even more stunning than anyone else there.” Katsuki casually flipped through the channels on the tv.
“Kacchan,” she hissed, “I can’t wear a dress. I’m not out. What if someone says something?”
“Is some extra talking shit worth your mental health?” He flicked the tv off and stood up with an eyebrow raised.
“It wouldn’t be ‘one extra,’” she made air quotes, “it would be all the extras in Japan.”
“I’ll take ‘em.” Katsuki’s hands began to release small sparks in their apartment.
“You are not fighting all of Japan so I could come out,” she deadpanned, glaring at him. “Anyways, it will be okay with just our friends knowing who I am.”
“We could just skip it?” He smirked.
“We’re in the top ten, we’re not allowed to skip it! Besides, I’m getting an award.” She pulled out a golden insert detailing the ‘humanitarian award’ she would be receiving and waved it around, her voice beginning to wobble as she spoke.
“Fine, but I can see that this is tearing you apart. You’re crying.” He walked towards her and lifted his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks which were warm to the touch. He pressed his forehead against her heated skin. He inhaled shakily before stretching his thumb to wipe away some of her tears. “How about we at least go shopping for a dress? You can decide the night of if you wanna wear the suit or the dress.”
Izuku thought about it. On one hand, someone could see her—a masculine-looking, famous hero, shopping for dresses—on the other hand, her heart soared at the thought of getting to try on fancy gowns for the first time.
…What’s the harm in testing out the waters?
“Let’s go shopping then,” she giggled.
***
Being a famous hero had its perks. One of those was that there were exclusive, ‘hero only’ stores.
Plus Ultra Confidential was one of those stores.
With a bouncer at the front verifying the status of all who entered. A valid hero license was the only way to gain entry into the store. Inside wasn’t anything special—the public hears “dedicated hero department store” and expects extravagance inside. In reality, it had boring white walls with tacky mannequins—just like any other store that the public shopped in. The only thing that set it apart was the safety from any paparazzi or superfans that might try and impede on their shopping time, when their time was already so limited. Staff were sworn to secrecy. Any type of phone or technology that connected to the internet was locked away and could only be accessed on breaks. If they mentioned who entered their store, they could be subject to disciplinary action.
All in all, they were safe here.
Once they entered the store, Katsuki wasted no time dragging Izuku to the section that held the ball and evening gowns. Reluctantly. Because Izuku dug her heels into the plush carpet the moment they entered the store, prompting Katsuki to encourage her forward.
“Kacchan, are you sure this is a good idea?” Izuku asked, her voice shaky, heels sinking further into the flooring
“Fuck yes. Just come on.” He tugged her arm in his direction. She gave in with a quiver.
Izuku faced racks of dresses. The colors overwhelmed her: pinks, reds, blues, even white sequined dresses lined the aisles. The sparkle of the glitter caught her eye as she passed the dresses. She felt her heart racing in her chest as she glanced down the seemingly endless aisles of evening wear, looking to see if there were any other customers in the aisles. What would happen if someone were to see hero Deku shopping for dresses? She didn’t want to find out. The hangers screeched as she separated the dresses to peek through for other heroes, seeing none, she turned back to Katsuki.
“Kacchan, I can’t do this,” she wheezed, voice stained with panic.
“Sure you can. We just need to find your size. I’ll flag down a worker.” He stepped back into the tiled path and looked both ways before walking towards the left side of the walkway. “Oi, you work here?”
Izuku closed her eyes tight, anticipating a nightmare, but instead was welcomed by a short, black-haired man wearing thick glasses. Similar to the ones Izuku wears when she’s doing paperwork.
“Hi there, folks! Welcome into Plus Ultra Confidential. What can I do for you?” He asked, a plastic smile plastered on his face.
“We need to get measurements,” Katsuki spoke, a good thing too. Izuku’s voice was stuck in the back of her throat.
“Of course Mr. Deku. I would be honored to get your measurements.”
Oh.
Mr.
Yeah, she forgot about that.
He was going to ask about a suit. Her measurements would be meant for a suit. That vile piece of fabric that made her feel inhuman. Like she wanted to shred her skin off every second she wore it. Down to the tie that choked her. Felt like a lead weight around her neck. She always looked pristine on the outside, but if she reflected how she felt inside when she was dressed as a man, she would look like a different person.
“I hear there’s a fancy hero party comin’ up. Is that whatcha need the measurements for? You gettin’ a new suit, Mr. Deku?” Every time he said that, she poorly hid a flinch and frantically turned her eyes towards her boyfriend, who was sitting on the stool in the corner. Katsuki met her eyes every time. Mouthed ‘I love you’ or ‘you got this’ to her every time he noticed her eyes stare at the ground. Almost as if they were wishing a hole would open up and swallow her.
She could feel the tightness of the measuring tape wrap around her waist and suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. It was as if the band tightened all the way up to her throat, effectively muting her and causing her to break out into a cold sweat.
She always managed to evade the support company’s measurement appointments, avoiding phone calls and dodging the workers at the agency. Luckily, she hadn’t grown since the last upgrade. That’s the only reason she hasn’t broken down and given into the intrusive endeavor.
“Well, I seem to be about done here? Do you need help locating the perfect suit? I know my way around a Prada piece,” the clerk chuckled, handing a slip of paper to her.
Her measurements.
A grounding squeeze radiated against her forearm. Katsuki was reminding her that he was here with her and for her.
She was so lucky.
“Actually, we’re going to look at the dresses,” Izuku spoke softly.
The clerk’s left eyebrow rose and he let out a laugh. “Why? Are you planning a prank? I can’t see any other reason two men would need a dress.”
“Fuck you, and fuck off. We’ll take it from here, asshole.” Katsuki stood abruptly, hands open as a threat that he would release his quirk upon this man. Izuku’s eyes widened.
“Whatever. If you need me, I’ll be stocking in women’s. Oh—” he stopped and looked Katsuki dead in the eyes, “—and please don’t need me.”
Once he was gone, Izuku let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
“Thanks, Kacchan.”
“Fucker was a prick. He should be lucky I’m not going after his job for that.” Izuku could see a vein pulsing in Katsuki’s temple.
“Let it go. Let’s just look at dresses. He gave me my measurements. We can go from there.” Izuku pushed Katsuki’s shoulder, leading him back towards the gowns.
***
“What about this one?” Katsuki held up a shimmery, red, ballgown.
“I’d look like Christmas. I have green hair, duh.” She giggled before pulling the dress she was holding off the rack. “Do you think I could wear this one?”
Izuku held up a bright yellow, mermaid gown with a flared bottom and light pink ribbon woven throughout the bodice.
“If you wear that, I’m not leaving the fucking house with you. You’ll end up in some tacky ass magazine with the words ‘worst dressed’ underneath you,” he cackled.
She kept filing through the hangers, picking through anything and everything that caught her eye—a brown A-line dress; wasn’t her size. A black and white strapless sheath piece; she felt she’d be stuffed like a sardine tin in that dress! Another mermaid gown, this one teal; it had obnoxious sleeves that went along with it. Overly puffy and old-school sleeves.
She was starting to give up hope until Katsuki called her over, “Deku, you gotta see this one.”
Putting back the dress she had been examining, she shuffled over to where Katsuki was standing. He pulled a dress off the rack, bringing it out into the store’s fluorescent light.
“What about this one?”
“Oh, Kacchan! It’s perfect!”
***
“Izuku, we have to leave in a half hour!” Katsuki yelled as he walked up the stairs. He entered the room to see Izuku sitting on the bed in between her dress and her suit. She jumped when she noticed her boyfriend enter the room. “Are you gonna be ready by then?”
“Kacchan, I don’t know what to do,” she cried, throwing her head in her hands. “I’m so scared. Telling the world who I am is so... terrifying. Maybe it’s a good idea to just wear the damn suit and suck it up.”
“Baby,” he crooned, pulling her close to his chest, “I’m going to support you either way. If it means you squeezing the damn blood outta my hand all night or me telling some paps to fuck off, I’ll go either way. Whatever makes you happy.”
“But I don’t know what’ll make me happy. On one hand, I’m so comfortable living as ‘Deku, the Symbol of Peace,’ the hero that posed in underwear for that stupid Porsche ad. But I can’t keep living like this! I hate myself a little more each day I step out of this house looking like a man. ”
“Then you should wear the dress.” He ran his hand down her back, warming it slightly in an attempt to soothe her.
“If I do, I’ll have to deal with all the backlash. My hero rank will drop. Merch sales will fall. All because I had to tell the world my business. Maybe I can live with just our friends knowing,” she murmured. Katsuki reached back to grab a tissue and handed it to her.
She wiped her face, thoughts still racing. “What about the mothers that will tell their kids they can’t support me anymore because I’m trans?”
“Who gives a shit about them? If they won’t support you after this, then they were never your real fans to begin with.”
“Kacchan, that’s not true,” she choked out, attempting to hold in a sob which caused her to heave in air in bursts.
“If they only like you because you look like a man, then they only care about appearance and not the thousands of damn lives you’ve saved. Deku, you saved Japan. The whole fucking world, even. That means more to some people than your gender identity.” His hand got warmer against her back.
“It’s not that simple. Kacchan. I wish it were.”
“Well then, tell me how it’s complicated.” He sat down next to her.
“I’m a hero. You know this. I can’t just go onto national television and tell the world I’m trans. Imagine the reaction.” She put her head in her hands, digging her fingertips into her forehead.
“What about the trans kids who will look up to you with hope that they can one day live the life they dream of?” Katsuki had fire behind his eyes.
“Low blow.” Izuku blew her bangs off her forehead at the same time she crossed her arms. It would warm Izuku’s heart to hear that her coming out helped a young kid’s own coming out. Inspiring others in their authenticity would fulfill an aspect of Izuku’s life she didn’t realize was empty. But... the public. The transphobia.
“What? It’s the truth. There’ll be young children who will see your coming out as a chance towards them being able to speak the words themselves.”
“I’d love to be considered a symbol of resilience for those kids but at the same time, it’s not my responsibility to.” Izuku wrapped her arms around her midsection and squeezed.
“What’s that even mean? You used to break your bones to win in fucking class fights and almost died saving Japan. You’re telling me you don’t want to be seen as an out hero to the masses?” Katsuki’s arms were flailing, almost smacking Izuku in the crossfire.
“No, it’s not that. Inspiring trans people across the world would be a dream and definitely part of a reason I’m considering coming out. But... the main responsibility I’d have is to myself. I would have to ensure that I keep myself safe. Kacchan, the reality is that I’m a public figure. I can’t just do something drastic and expect nothing to happen. At least, not without consulting PR and this is not something I want to talk to them about.”
“You do whatever you have to do to keep yourself safe. I’m on your side. Always.” Katsuki wrapped an arm around Izuku and held her tight. Smiling softly, he bent down and pressed a kiss to the crown of Izuku’s head.
Izuku sighed and fell dramatically on her back on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, her eyes danced from one side of the room to the next, thoughts racing through her head.
Pros: she could feel euphoric, she’d be authentic. She’d finally be out to the public and not feeling like she’s betraying them every time she goes on patrol. The people could relate to her. She could use this to help give back to organizations if she wanted to. A rush went through her at the thought of being out, but she pushed it down.
Cons: Everything else. The inevitable transphobia. It would be hell on Earth. The tabloids would call her a crossdresser and a predator. The constant misgendering and refusal of her identity.
Her options were limited and time was running out.
Her heart was racing so fast she could feel it radiating through her chest, ready to burst free from its shackles of decision making.
What should she do? What should she do?
Suddenly, she felt calm. Her heartbeat slowed.
Chuckling to herself, Izuku had her decision.
***
“Pro Heroes Dynamight and Deku are entering the carpet! and we’ll be providing you an exclusive interview with the famed Wonder Duo,” Izuku heard from the other side of the car door over the shutter of cameras and whispers of other reporters. Another car door slammed in the distance. Other heroes were arriving as well. She could see the bright flashes of light already assaulting her vision.
With a whoosh, the car door swung open, and her and Katsuki were instantly assaulted by bright, blinding camera flashes in every direction. Katsuki squeezed her hand before he slid out of the car, extending a hand to help her out.
She began to hyperventilate. She wasn’t sure she could do this. There was the option of slamming the door shut and paying the driver to take her home. She could just open a bottle of wine, watch Netflix, and laugh at Kacchan’s texts about how the heroes at the gala are ‘fucking lame’. But, she was dressed and there was no point in backing out now.
Exhaling, she took Katsuki’s hand and exited the car.
“What do you two—” The reporter’s jaw dropped, their head snapping back to do a double take. “Deku, what are you wearing?”
Izuku stepped into the view of the cameras in a floor length, A-line dress. The gown was a rich green—almost the same color as her hair. The garment shone as if Izuku were actually wearing woven jade, glittering in the spotlight. Her scalloped Louboutins gleamed under the camera lights, signature red bottoms on display. Her curls cascaded as far as they could extend, held together with a gold pin that held an emerald in the center. She wore little make-up, as she wanted her freckles to be on display, but she did wear a deep red lip.
This was the most feminine she had ever felt in her life. She felt… as if she were the epitome of beauty.
If someone had gone back in time to her teenage self to tell her about this moment, she’s sure she’d be full of confusion and awe. She’d have so many questions: why was she doing this? Was this actually real life for her? Was this truly something awaiting her in her future?
“Good evening,” she drawled, smiling large enough for her cheeks to ache and her pearly whites to peek out from behind her stunning lipwear.
“Deku, you’ve shown up in some interesting attire. Care to explain?” The reporter attempted to push a microphone in her face, but she pushed it aside with her perfectly manicured green and gold nails (they were press-ons, but no one had to know).
At this point, Katsuki had stepped off to the side, he knew Izuku had this situation under control and wore a large smirk to show it.
“I’m wearing a dress, is that not obvious?” Izuku laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“Yes, but why?” The reporter wore a shell shocked expression.
“I thought women were supposed to wear dresses to these events, am I wrong?” She blinked innocently.
Another reporter ran over and waved his arms around. “Deku, are you making a statement tonight?! What are you trying to say?” he yelled.
“I’m saying I’m a woman. For a career that gets paid based on what you hear from your interviewees, you bunch are awful at this listening thing.” She shook her head. “Anyways, I have an award waiting for me inside. If you’ll excuse me.” Izuku pinched the delicate fabric between her fingers and lifted the dress off the ground just enough for her to walk towards her boyfriend who was standing on the stairs with his hand extended towards her.
Later that evening, when she accepted her number one hero award, she looked directly at the camera and spoke authentically to the hall full of heroes, her peers. She didn’t think of the small-minded retail worker or the reporter outside. People who couldn’t imagine what it was like to live as someone they were not. All she could think of was the man who was sat back in his chair, giving her eyes as if she held the whole world. It didn’t matter what others thought of her. Let them have their opinions. She had Kacchan and her euphoric and authentic self. That was all she needed to face the world.