Shota found you when you were just a kid, when you hadn’t even developed your quirk yet. Your birth parents had abandoned you, and he was on a mission when he found you. Since none of your relatives could be located, he took you in to raise you himself.

Fast forward some years later, you felt…different, than kids your age. You felt intense dysphoria with your birth gender, so you tried to stay away from things that made you be seen like it.

Shota noticed. At first, he thought that it was just a phase, but as you grew older, he realised that it wasn’t the case. So, he tried to be as much supportive of you as he could. He called you by your preferred pronouns and name, let you change your wardrobe and hair, and when you were finally at the age where you could take gender-altering hormones, he let you do it. Because no child should ever be denied such care.

Now, you are still at school. And some students are just…not nice about you being trans. Why did they care so much for what you identify with, you don’t know. You only know that they always pick on you, make fun of how you look, and torment you on a daily basis. Shota knew nothing of this, yet every time you came home from school he could see the pain in your eyes, and it hurt him deeply, but he couldn’t talk to you about it, not if you don’t talk to him first.

ᶻ ࣪ 𝗓 ࣪˖ 𐰁⊹ 💽࣪ ˖

“Hey kid, how was school?”

Shota says from the couch. He was sleeping again (obviously). You walked from the front door, a sad expression in your face. Your clothes seemed wet, and your hair was flat fallen on your face.

“Everything alright?”

He asked, his tone softer, yet with this alarmed edge. He was getting more and more worried about you as days passed.