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It starts with moving into the dorms, as most things on Shouta’s growing list of headaches do. Turns out, they can’t just shove the kids into the dorms, there’s actually a lot of shit that has to be dealt with. Who would’ve guessed?
Shouta guessed. Shouta knew. And as much as he loves his students it’s been a long fucking week- a long fucking semester and he does not want to be doing this.
“You look like you’re raiding a pharmacy.”
Aizawa raises his brows, staring down at his husband.
“And you look like you’re breaking confidentiality.”
“I’m not looking,” Hizashi protests. He tilts his head. “Well,” he allows. “I wasn’t looking at the meds. I was looking for you. Now at you.” His husband's eyes rake over his frame, giving a sly grin that has Shouta snorting. There’s nothing actually behind it, not right now.
Shouta sighs, and pushes aside a few pill bottles, keeping note not to mix the small piles he’s formed with others.
“How did this become my job?” Shouta moans, “I signed up to teach children, not babysit. I- they’re fifteen, can’t they do this themselves?”
Hizashi snorts. Shouta glares.
“Hey I’m just saying, it’s not like you actually kept track of your meds consistently at their age.”
“I did too,” Shouta protests. He’s given up on the med inventory for the moment.
Hizashi laughs fully this time.
“Oboro had to set an alarm to text you in the mornings to make sure you took your antidepressants.”
Shouta closes his eyes. Right. He never did tell Hizashi about that, did he?
“My mom didn’t want me taking them,” he explains, “sometimes she would… forget to refill them.”
Hizashi blinks.
“You never told me that,” he says.
Shouta shrugs.
“It- she was fine with the T, but the- antidepressant she felt were like… a slap in her face. I don’t know.”
He watches Hizashi stiffen, his body tightening as Shouta speaks. He recognizes anger in Hizashi and he sees it now. He also notes how Hizashi rubs at his hand with his thumb, doing his best to calm down and not get too upset about this. Hizashi isn’t angry at him, Shouta reminds himself.
“So… you weren’t forgetting.”
“Started rationing,” Shouta says, “made a month last two. If I didn’t think she’d refill them, I’d cut down more so I never went cold turkey. I couldn’t actually find out if rationing was the best thing, but I assumed it was like tapering… so. Only ended up running out completely once.”
“When?” is Hizashi’s next question. Shouta had prepared for it.
“Two weeks before Oboro died. Mandatory grief counseling is what forced my mom to refill them.”
“Fuck, Shouta,” Hizahsi says, taking a step closer and then stopping. “You never said- no I guess you wouldn’t, would you?”
Shouta smiles lightly, harshly, at that.
“No,” he agrees, “I wouldn't have. But now you know.”
“Now I know,” Hizashi says numbly. He looks across at Shouta once more. “Now get your ass over here so I can kiss you without breaking confidentiality.”
Shouta pushes himself away from the mound of medicine at his seat. He crosses the room, meeting Hizashi by the kitchen counter and making the first move. It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s kissing Hizashi, so it’s automatically special, like all the kisses he shares with him are.
“I love you,” Shouta says unusually leading.
“Love you too,” Hizashi says. It’s easy, familiar.
They break apart, Hizashi’s hand resting on Shouta’s hip.
“Now, what’s the deal with the meds?”
Shouta groans, and turns away slightly, putting a little more space between them, a more comfortable distance to have a conversation. Hizashi’s hand falls from his hip and intertwines with his one instead, fiddling with Shouta’s fingers.
“If it’s prescription, they can’t hold onto it,” he explains. “The cabinet there,” he nods in the tall cabinet at the edge of the kitchen that has an obvious lock by the handle. “I have a key to that. Inside are individual lockboxes for each student who has meds. I have a copy to all, and each of the kids will get the one to their respective boxes. I open it in the morning, close it before classes, open it after classes, close it at lights out. I check every night to make sure everything’s there. Full inventory- counting each pill- is every month.”
Hizashi whistles.
“Yeah,” Shouta says, “It’s a lot. It’s probably good, but it’s a lot. It gives them some responsibility, has them stop relying on parents if they were before, but also keeps some safety. Makes sure no one’s going off unexpectedly, makes sure there isn’t any sharing or stealing, and it prevents overdoses.”
“Do you think that would be an issue- abuse? Overdose?”
Shouta shakes his head and shrugs.
“No, I don’t think so? But you never know.”
Hizashi hums in agreement. They’ve seen it. From their own time in high school, to out on the streets serving as heroes, and now as teachers. Sometimes you do the best you can and it still blindsides you.
“There’s a call number that’ll be posted with a bunch of other numbers so if they need it open and I can’t, it’s there. And it’s just a lock, so any of them could break it open if they wanted to, but it’s meant more as a deterrent and a way to keep an eye on it. If I come back to the cabinet missing a door…”
“You’d know something’s up,” Hizashi finishes.
“Yeah,” Aziawa agrees.
“Then what are you doing now?” Hizashi asks.
“First inventory,” he explains, “And setting up each box, labeling them. Then I have to meet with each student individually to go over it all, make sure they know how to take their meds and what their meds actually do and all that shit.”
“Fun,” Hizashi remarks.
Then, Hizashi frowns.
“Our meds don’t have to go into, do they? Hizashi asks, half horrified. Shouta snorts.
“Really?” he asks.
“Well we live in the building!” Hizashi remarks, swinging their hands gently.
“On a floor that has only my office and our apartment. And a locked door.”
“Is that a no?”
“It’s a no,” Shouta agrees.
“Yay! No locked meds for us! Height of adulthood.”
“You act as if you’re any better at taking your meds than they are,” Shouta grumbles.
“Well,” Hizashi remarks, “That’s what I have you for!” He squeezes Shouta’s hand lightly.
It used to be Oboro. Oboro had been the only one who could actually keep track of all of them, from Shouta’s T to Hizashi’s ritalin. But now they do it for each other. They still sometimes forget. Oboro wouldn’t have.
“Do you remember when I was on Adderall?” Hizashi asks.
“I wish I didn't,” Shouta grumbles, getting a ‘hey’ from Hizashi and a jab to the ribs.
“And,” Shouta remarks, “Speaking of my husband’s ADHD, I do actually need to get back to this. My student’s health is kind of a priority.”
Hizashi relents, and lets him return to the table, turning away to the massive living room to give him some privacy. Hopefully he can finish this all soon enough and be done with it.
Unfortunately even though the lockboxes go quickly enough, the meetings go much, much slower.
Todoroki is his last, and there’s just one prescription they have to go over. Todoroki actually has two, but his scar cream was one of few exceptions to the lockbox rules even though it was, technically, a prescription. But he has one other, and that had been required to be locked up. A prescription that Shouta was not expecting to see but… well he’s trying to avoid invading his students privacy as much as possible.
“Todoroki,” he calls out, “my office in five.”
He sees Todoroki give a nod of acknowledgement. Shouta does his best to discreetly make his way to the med cabinet, pulling out Todoroki’s lockbox, and heads up to his office. He’ll wait for Todoroki there.
Sure enough, Todoroki is there five minutes later on the dot.
“Aizawa-sensei,” he says, standing in the door, “You wanted to see me.”
“Yes,” he agrees, “Come in Todoroki.”
Todoroki does, taking a few firm steps in, hands neatly at his side and waits. Shouta gestures to the empty chairs just in front of him, and it’s only then Todoroki takes a seat with a firm nod. Shouta wonders sometimes, about the Todoroki he sees in moments like this, how different he is from the Todoroki he’s started to see with Midoriya and the group of problem children that hang around him.
“It’s nothing much,” Shouta soothes, hoping to see Todoroki relax, at least slightly. He does not. “We just need to go over your prescriptions.”
“Alright,” he nods.
“The scar cream you may keep on you,” Shouta says, even though Todoroki knows this already. “When it’s refilled I’ll notify you and put it in the lockbox, but you may remove it.”
Todoroki nods.
“Now, your other prescription,” Shouta starts.
“Yes,” Todoroki agrees, “the vitamins.”
“Vitamins?” Shouta frowns.
“The gel,” he clarifies.
“The testosterone?” Shouta confirms. He… wouldn’t exactly call testosterone a vitamin. A supplement, maybe . But testosterone is a hormone, not a vitamin.
But the confusion continued and frowns, shaking his head.
“Testosterone?” he asks.
“Yes,” Shouta responds, wondering if he’s somehow mixed up his kids' meds. Because that would be… Well that would be very bad. He opens Todoroki’s lockbox, shows him the gel.
“Yeah,” Todoroki nods when he sees it, “my vitamins. What’s this about testosterone?”
Oh, oh no. Oh fuck. So Todoroki isn’t transmasc then, which has been Shouta’s assumption. Which means… well it could mean a few things but…
“You don’t know what this is?” Shouta asks.
“Yes, I do,” Todoroki says, “They’re vitamins.”
“Through your skin?” Shouta asks.
“Yes,” Todoroki claims, “because of my quirk. Because half-cold half-hot is two extremes. It’s hard for my body to regulate. Therefore, vitamins.”
Shout blinks. Fuck what was Endeavour telling his son… his kid? Has Todoroki ever been told any of this? Been allowed to explore any of this? Because this could be multiple things, but the lying… well Shouta’s been part of the queer community for a long time and a child on hormones being lied to about it… there’s a common experience that ties it all together.
Fuck. Where is Shouta supposed to start with this?
“Todoroki, this isn’t a vitamin.”
“Yes it is,” Todoroki insists, “I’ve taken it since I was… I think twelve?”
Right around puberty. Shouta regrets ever becoming a teacher.
“Todoroki, it’s testosterone,” Shouta corrects gently, no idea if he’s doing this right. “Look, here, see, that’s the prescription.”
Todoroki looks, evaluating the words Shouta has shoved his way, He eventually frowns, and pushes the slip away.
“It must be wrong,” he claims, “the pharmacy must have mixed them up. My vitamins come in the same container.”
He isn’t- Todoroki isn’t-
Shouta closes his eyes, and sighs.
“What are the vitamins Todoroki?”
He frowns.
“I told you- for my quirk.”
“No,” Shouta says gently, because he needs to be gentle with this. Regardless if he’s right on why, this will be a lot to take in. He’s informing Shouta that he’s been taking hormones without his knowledge, for at least three years. “I meant the name Todoroki, what are the vitamins called ?”
“... I don’t know,” Todoroki admits.
“Okay,” Shouta says. They’re getting somewhere. “Then, can you tell me what they’re for?”
“Why?” Todoroki asks, narrowing his eyes.
“Well,” Shouta says, “if like you said, the pharmacy got them wrong, I’ll need to know what it is to get you the right medication.
Todoroki hesitates.
“They’re for my quirk,” he insists.
“What for, specifically?” Shouta asks, “There's all kinds of quirk supplements.”
Todoroki won’t be able to answer the question, and for his lack of social grace he is a smart kid. He’ll figure it out. Shouta knows this is a conclusion he needs to come to himself. Todoroki freezes, and Shouta sees the moment it connects. He looks across at Shouta, then down, and then at the prescription slip and tube.
“Testosterone, you said?” he confirms. Shouta nods, mutters a confirmation. Todoroki stares, processes.
“Like the hormone?”
Shouta nods.
“ Testosterone ,” he says, this time not a question. Maybe he just needs to say it. Shouta would understand that. Reality can be so much harder to face than fiction.
Then, Todoroki asks the real question.
‘Why?” he asks, “I, why would- why would I- why would someone take testosterone?”
He depersonalizes at the last minute. Shouta nods, and takes that route.
“Well there can be numerous reasons a person takes testosterone. Many adult cis men take it as they age-”
“I’m not an adult,” Todoroki says, then flushes. “Sorry,” he mutters.
Shouta switches routes.
“There’s a couple reasons a teenager would take testosterone. The most common being hormone replacement therapy for trans and queer individuals, or to support a testosterone deficiency.”
“Why would I have a testosterone deficiency? No, wait.” Todoroki pauses, considers, “Why wouldn’t my father tell me that I had a testosterone deficiency?”
“You’d have to ask him,” Shouta admits, “Like I said, there’s a few-”
“But you have a theory,” Todoroki interrupts again, and then another muttered, “Sorry.”
“I do,” Shouta admits, “But maybe that should wait until after you discuss with your father.”
“No,” Todoroki says, eyes suddenly steeling.
“No?” Shouta asks. The switch in behavior is sudden, a surprise. It only raises more concerns over Todoroki’s relationship with his father.
Todoroki softens almost immediately.
“I mean,” he says, “my dad is busy, and we don’t talk about a lot of this stuff.”
Considering Todoroki didn’t even know he was taking testosterone until a few moments ago, yeah Shouta would say that.
“I’ll probably talk to my sister about it, she helps my father out with this sort of stuff, with my mother… away. But it might help, if this is something I’ve had since I was young, to know any… theories,” Todoroki presses.
Shouta sighs. He doesn’t know if he should, after all it is just a theory.
But. But…
Well if Shouta is right- and he’s pretty sure he is- and Todoroki doesn’t ask the right questions he might not know, might not even have the chance to know until he is 18 at the youngest . But if he’s wrong…
And even if he is right, is it his place? He’s Todoroki’s teacher, not his parent, and again this is a theory. Shouta’s caught, unsure.
He looks up, and Todoroki is looking right at him, eyes pressing, both softer and more firm than Shouta’s ever seen them. Todoroki reminds him of himself as a kid, carefully covering vulnerability with steel shields. He takes a breath.
That night, when Hizashi and him lay in bed under the moonlight, Shouta raises his hands.
“I think I might have made a mistake today,” he admits.
Hizahsi frowns, sits up on one elbow.
“What?” he asks.
“With Todoroki,” Shouta admits, “I- I told him something. But I might not be right about it.”
Hizashi frowns, asking for more.
“I can’t say,” Shouta admits, “confidentiality. I just… I don’t know if I did the right thing.”
“You tried,” Hizashi encourages.
“Trying isn’t always enough,” Shouta points out.
“Come here,” Hizashi insists, beckoning. Shouta sighs, but shuffles closer, allowing Hizashi to be the big spoon. Night worries like this, anxieties before sleep are usually something Shouta can’t be talked out of, can’t be reasoned out of. Hizashi knows this. Shouta knows this. So instead of trying to reason with the unreasonable, Hizashi holds him close instead, and they sleep.
Fitfully, but they do. Hizashi doesn’t complain once about how Shouta tosses and turns, even when he sees his husband yawning the next morning.
Todoroki comes to him a fortnight later.
“Can we meet?”
“Sure,” Shouta says, “when?”
Todoroki shuffles, unnaturally uncertain. He shows more emotion on his face than Shouta has ever seen before, He’s far from the stoic boy he usually is.
“Now?” Todoroki asks, “if you have time.”
Shouta was in the middle of grading. Was. He’s already speaking in the past tense. He knows his answer.
“Give me ten minutes to wrap up?” he requests.
Todoroki nods.
“I need to grab something anyway,” he admits.
“Alright,” Shouta agrees, “I'll see you in my office in ten.”
He packs up his stuff, moves to his office. Todoroki is there in ten. With him, is a thick folder of paper.
“I am,” he starts off, still not taking a seat until Shouta gestures him to a chair.
“I am,” he repeats, pushing the files across, “intersex. You were right.”
Ah. Okay then.
“I see,” Shouta says carefully, and thinks on how he wants to approach this.
In all honesty, he’s not quite sure because he doesn’t know what Todoroki needs, what he's looking for, or what he might be running away from. The best way to find out, Shouta decides, is to ask.
“What can I do for you Todoroki?” Shouta asks, “What do you need?”
Todoroki pauses, hands hovering over documents.
“My sister gave them to me,” he confesses, “but she- she didn’t know what a lot of it meant, and neither did I. And I can’t… Like I mentioned before, my father is busy. I was hoping…”
He looks up at Shouta, expectant.
“I’m not a doctor,” Shouta says gently.
“I know,” Todoroki says, “I know but… I didn’t know who else to bring this to,” the admittance says a lot. Mainly because it comes from Todoroki. “Aizawa-sensei, I was hoping you might- if there was anything here you did know.”
Shouta looks at his student, really observes Todoroki, watches as he meets Shouta’s eyes but doesn’t seem to ever be looking at him. He sees the creases at the side of the papers and recognizes the familiar lines from a clenched fist. This has been weighing on Todoroki.
“You knew what intersex was,” Todoroki says, “and you knew enough about it to think I could maybe be that.”
Fuck. Shouta can’t say no, now, can he? He cares too much about these dumb kids.
“Alright,” he sighs, “let me see.”
Todoroki slides them over.
“You do understand that this is your private medical information,” Shouta points out, “I can’t stop you from doing this, and this also isn’t something in this context I could get in trouble for, but it’s important to respect and protect your privacy. You shouldn’t go around showing people random medical documentation.”
Todoroki makes no comment- just stares at him evenly, so with a sigh Shouta begins to look them over. That goal about not invading his student’s privacy has just become completely obsolete.
There’s a lot of it, and most of it Shouta sifts through, passes on. But as he gets further back in the files, he gets closer to Todoroki’s birth and…
Shouta tries to think how best to explain.
“What do you understand from this so far?” he asks his student. Best to see where Todoroki’s at now, and build from there. Just like Shouta would do in class.
“I know I’m intersex,” Todoroki says. He leans forward, pointing to something on the page Aizawa is currently on, “And I know this says that they knew when I was born. And that later on, I started showing signs of female puberty so they stopped it and put me on testosterone instead.”
Shouta nods, and considers.
“Yes,” he agrees, “That’s what I understood as well. It seems you were born with what is referred to as ambiguous genitalia, and in your case the enzymes used to form cholesterol into testosterone function at a low level. This is the reason for ambiguous genitalia and unexpected hormone levels going into puberty. To manage those hormone levels, you were placed on hormone blockers and later placed on testosterone.”
“Okay,” Todoroki says, nodding, “Then- if I was born with- like you said- ambiguous genitalia, then how did they know I was a boy?”
Shouta inhales, exhales.
“Your parents chose,” Shouta admits. “They told your parents they could choose how they would prefer to raise you, and that corrective surgery would be done so your genitalia would match what they chose.”
Todoroki blinks at him.
“They chose male,” Shouta adds, unnecessarily.
“ Surgery ?” Todoroki asks.
Shouta sighs, shuffles a few pages back, and points out details to Todoroki. He explains the process, how intersex children often get corrective surgery to best match what they ended up being sexed as, even when procedures were not medically necessary for a child’s health, purely cosmetic.
“Wait,” Todoroki says, looking up from the papers Shouta has displayed, “Are you saying I could have- that I should’ve been a girl .”
“No,'' Shouta says softly. Todoroki’s face doesn’t give away any tells, “No, there is no such thing as what you should have been, or could have been. In your specific case your sex assigned at birth didn’t fit into neat, binary labels and the doctors who were supposed to care for you decided that was something that needed to be fixed. You couldn’t be sexed- and frankly, you shouldn’t have. You should have had the option to make that choice yourself. No one is supposed to be a gender, they just are a gender. And you’re the only one who can determine what that gender is- if it exists at all.”
“I’m a boy,” Todoroki says confidently, then falters. His shoulders come together slightly, and he shifts on his feet.
“I- intersex- does- is it because of my quirk?”
Is it, is it because of what now?
“I was supposed to be a twin,” Todoroki says, “I know that’s why I look like this. Chimerism. It- usually it doesn’t have any effects on appearance. In my case…”
Todoroki trails off, but he doesn’t have to explain. In Todoroki’s case, the effects are obvious and clear. The heterochromia, the two toned hair. Shouta knows from his medical records that he also has two blood types. While chimerism might not be horribly rare itself, specifically how it presents in Todoroki’s case makes him a clear anomaly. It’s usually unnoticeable, undetectable. Todoroki is anything but.
“They think- quirk counselors- that half-hot half-cold might be another part of my chimerism, but they can’t be sure,” Todoroki explains, “Is this- is being intersex part of that too?”
“I don’t know,” Shouta says carefully, because really he is not qualified for this. He teaches children how to beat up bad guys not about quirk body science. “I doubt it,” he admits, “I haven’t heard of intersex conditions being linked to quirks at all, and I don’t see why they would be. Plus, the type of intersex condition you have, I don’t believe would be affected by chimerism. But you would have to discuss that with an actual doctor.”
Not your high school homeroom hero teacher, dammit Todoroki.
“Alright,” Todoroki agrees. He gives a nod. “Thank you Aizawa-sensei.”
“Of course, Todoroki,” Shouta returns, just a touch softer than his normal voice, “Is that all?”
Todoroki nods, and together they gather his papers together. They return to a neatly stacked pile, just a tad more tousled and combed through. Todoroki gathers them in his arms and stands, moving towards the door, but right before he turns back to face Shouta.
“Aizawa-sensei,” he says.
“Yes,” Shouta responds.
“If- if my parents chose that I would be a boy, does that mean, does that mean I can choose to be a girl?”
“If that's what you want,” Shouta replies.
“Oh,” Todoroki says, eyes glancing down and filled with so much more emotion than Shouta has ever seen from him, “huh. Okay.”
Shouta hesitates, then pushes forward.
“If there is a… different name you would like to be called, or an adjustment to pronouns, all that would be needed is for you to inform me,” Shouta explains, “and together we would figure it out.”
“Right,” Todoroki says, still lingering.
Shouta waits. He will wait forever if he has to.
“How, how would I know?” Todoroki asks, which isn’t exactly a question Shouta can answer. He can’t tell Todoroki how he would know, because gender is different for every person and how he experiences won’t match any other experience. Unfortunately, he needs to answer, and not just because Todoroki asked him. He needs to let Todoroki know that he is not alone, that it is okay to wonder.
Shouta is a private person, but he thinks maybe this is the only way he can make himself understood by Todoroki.
“I knew because it felt right. I’m not intersex, but I am trans,” Shouta says. Todoroki’s eyes fly up to meet him, gaze burning. He can see the shock on Todoorki’s face as he studies his body, even as he tries to hide it. Shouta’s not surprised to see it. He knows he has the privilege and curse of passing. There’s no reason for any of his students to suspect. But this is not about passing, it is about knowing .
There’s so much more to it, questions and tears and fear and wondering if there was something wrong with him. There was joy and pride and relief. It’s a journey, it’s still a journey. It’s his life. But most of all, “it felt right ,” he continues, “and you deserve to feel right. You deserve to feel safe, at home with yourself.”
Todoroki pauses.
Shouta has never seen him cry. He wonders if it’s from the testosterone because even if there’s no tears, Todoroki’s face crumples and he pulls his arms tight around himself.
“I want to feel right,” she says, and Shouta knows .
“Aizawa-sensei,” she says, and Shouta listens. “I’m a girl.”
“Congratulations,” he remarks, giving his firm verbal approval. Todoroki is already looking overwhelmed, skittish, but they gotten through the toughest part of it. Shouta doesn’t push because they have time. They have time.
He thought he had time with Oboro, and he had been wrong, but he will have time with Todoroki. He will make sure he has time with Todoroki. He refuses to not have time with Todoorki.
None of his kids will die young. He will make sure of it.
Shouta’s graduating classes don’t have top ranks. Many of Shouta’s students never break past sidekicks, and many retire young or move to part time. He has the highest expulsion and transfer rates in the entire school.
But Shouta also has the highest five and ten year survival rates for graduates. His kids might not break records, might not chart, but they live and they thrive. His students take time off- for family, for friends, for themselves. His students build lives , form families, get married, and thrive.
Shouta knows he plays a part in that because it’s only his class- only his class from all of the hero schools in Japan that have stats like his.
He will not let Todoroki die before she has a chance to explore this, before she has a chance to love herself for who she is.
“Thank you Aizawa-sensei.”
And then she’s gone.
Shouta lets her go. They will have time.