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You're Still Man Enough

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Oikawa knew something was wrong when he got home that night. It was a Thursday, and he could hardly wait for the weekend. He was worn out from practice, wearing a tight, sweaty sports bra instead of a binder, his head aching a little. All he wanted was to get to sleep. But things fell apart before that could happen.

"Akane!" his father shouted. His eyes widened. Shit. Why was his father home? He wasn't supposed to be home for another three hours. "What the hell is this?"

Oikawa walked to the kitchen, trying to stay as calm as possible, although it felt like his heart was lodged in his throat. His father was standing at the kitchen table, holding a letter that Oikawa couldn't see. His mother was sat beside him, looking guilty and apologetic. Oikawa's heart dropped.

"Good afternoon, dad," he said, his voice strained and smile forced. His father glared at him before shoving the letter against Oikawa's chest. Oikawa frowned and took the letter with shaking hands. It was a school report. He'd gotten mostly As, a couple of Bs. "I don't understand, what's-"

"Why does it say Tooru?!" his father bellowed, snatching the report from Oikawa's hands. Oikawa felt his stomach flip, nausea washing over him. Oh no. His father slammed the report against the table. "Huh? Why does my daughter's school report say Tooru!?"

Oikawa's eyes filled with tears and he shook his head quickly. He could hardly breathe. This couldn't be happening. "Dad, I'm sorry," he breathed out shakily. "Please forgive me, I'm sorry!"

His father glowered at him, and Oikawa finally understood his mother's apologetic expression. Before Oikawa could process what was happening, his volleyball bag was snatched from his hand, being thrown to the kitchen table.

"Dad, no, please," he pleaded, trying to take back his bag. "Mom, please, help me!" Oikawa looked to his mother, who only looked away, ignoring Oikawa's pleas. His father slapped Oikawa's hands away, opening the bag.

Oikawa put his head in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I'm sorry Dad, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.." His father stared at the uniforms – a male school uniform, and a male volleyball uniform. He said nothing for while before throwing the bag to the floor.

"Go to your room," he muttered, not even looking at Oikawa. Oikawa began to apologise again, his voice pleading and desperate. "Akane, I said go to your room!"

Oikawa flinched, waiting a moment before turning and running upstairs, tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn't eat dinner that night, nor did he answer his father's shouts. But he cried more than he had done in years.


The next morning, Oikawa woke to a girls' school uniform folded neatly beside his bed. His eyes brimmed with tears and he slid out of bed, wiping his wet cheeks. He went to put on his binder, only to find that it was gone.

His eyes widened, panic settling over his shoulders. How would he go to practice without a binder or sports bra? How would he go to school without his binder? He looked at himself in the mirror, stared at his bare chest. He turned away suddenly, tears slowly rolling down his cheeks as he dressed.

He ran down the stairs, wiping his tears with his sleeve. His father watched him slam the door shut as he left home. Neither said anything to eachother.

It was only when Oikawa got to school that things got out of hand. He kept his arms crossed over his chest protectively, his head ducked down as he walked to his locker. He ignored the whispers and stares, and horrible insults that were being mumbled in his direction.

He opened his locker silently, carefully pulling out a couple of textbooks. There was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to be met with four second year girls. Their smiles weren't sweet like they usually were, but instead were full of contempt.

"Is this a joke, Oikawa-kun?" one asked, jabbing a finger against his chest. His cheeks flushed red with shame and he looked away. He opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off.
"Or is Oikawa-chan better?"

He said nothing, very suddenly overwhelmed with a horrible feeling of worthlessness and nausea. He crossed his arms over his chest again, watching the other girls walk away. If only he were more comfortable in his own body.

"Tooru..?" a familiar voice asked. Oikawa looked up to find Iwaizumi staring at him, a look of confusion on his face. Oikawa silently went over to him, not making eye contact. "Trashykawa, what the hell are you wearing?"

Oikawa mumbled something that Iwaizumi didn't hear. He put a hand on Oikawa's shoulder, frowning. "I didn't hear you," he said gently. Oikawa found his boyfriend's gentle voice so comforting that he almost began to cry on the spot.

He looked at Iwaizumi with teary eyes, his hands shaking. "My dad," he repeated quietly. Iwaizumi's heart dropped. He saw how uncomfortable and self-conscious Oikawa was in his own body. It had been this way in their first year of middle school too.

He'd have done anything just to make Oikawa happy with his body, his voice and his personality. He pressed a careful hand between Oikawa's shoulder blades, gently guiding him into their first class. "We'll find you a spare uniform, okay?" he said reassuringly. "And I've got your spare binder so don't worry."

Oikawa nodded and glanced at him, forcing a small smile. "Thank you, Iwa-chan," he said shakily. Iwaizumi nodded and left Oikawa at his seat before sitting only a few seats away from him.

The teacher glanced up at them, but as soon as she saw Oikawa she frowned and looked away. Iwaizumi thought that it was maybe just the uniform, that everything else would be okay. But when people began to fill the classroom, he realised just how horrible things were.

There were girls around Oikawa instantly, but instead of pining and being sweet like they usually did, they were horrible to him. They laughed and poked at his chest, their smiles scornful. "Hey," he said, his voice loud. The girls glanced at him, still leaning over Oikawa's desk. "Back off. Leave him alone."

There was a moment of silence before they giggled. Although they did back off, they spat hateful words as they passed Iwaizumi. "Is 'him' the right word for a tranny?" one of them muttered under her breath.

Iwaizumi frowned, looking to Oikawa. His face was hidden in his hands and he was shaking. Not crying, but trying not to cry. Iwaizumi sighed softly, answering as the teacher called his name. He waited for Oikawa's name to be called, and hoped with all of his heart that the teacher would say Tooru.


There was a beat of silence before Oikawa mumbled a quiet, soft, 'here'. Oh no. Laughter and snorts went around the class. They were laughing at his name, his uniform – him. And the longer the laughter and soft insults went on, the more Oikawa began to shake.

By the end of the second period, Oikawa was a mess. He clung onto Iwaizumi's arm with a shaking hand. He didn't want to be alone. What if someone wanted to tell him something about his body? Or his name? Or himself? Anything at all was good enough to insult, he thought.

Iwaizumi sighed softly and gently pulled Oikawa's hand away from his arm. "Tooru, look at me," he said quietly. Oikawa kept his eyes trained on the ground. "Tooru, please." He gently cupped Oikawa's cheek in his large, calloused hand, making him look at him.

"Don't look at me," Oikawa mumbled, his cheeks flushing red. Usually he loved it when Iwaizumi used the name that he had chosen, but now it just felt sickening. Iwaizumi shook his head, gently brushing his thumb over Oikawa's cheek. He sighed softly.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Iwaizumi said softly. "Will you be okay out here for a while?" Oikawa nodded reluctantly. He appreciated how gentle and caring his boyfriend was being, especially since he rarely acted like this at school. "Are you sure?"

Oikawa nodded again. Iwaizumi sighed and pressed his forehead against Oikawa's for a moment before leaving. Oikawa stayed with his back pressed against the corridor wall. Iwaizumi had only just left when a group of boys came down the corridor in his direction.

He tried to be calm, tried to stay steady. But he couldn't. By the time the four boys were around him, he was shaking so much that he could hardly breathe. And then it began.

"Akane-chan," one of them teased. "You look so pretty today!" Oikawa flinched at the words, not looking up. The leader of the group slammed his hand next to Oikawa's head on the wall behind him.

"Girls shouldn't ignore boys," he whispered in Oikawa's ear. His eyes brimmed with tears and he looked around, desperate to find a way out. He was shaking and hyperventilating, his eyes wide. The boys only laughed.

"You're such a pervert, Akane," he muttered into his ear. Usually, first names were something precious, something important. But his was being thrown around like it meant nothing. "First you were a faggot, now you're a tranny?"

Oikawa shook his head desperately. "I'm n-not," he choked out. "P-Please.." The boys laughed at him, and the one leaning over him grabbed his jaw, staring at him before grimacing.

"What's in your pants?" he asked. Oikawa's eyes widened. He shook his head, trying to turn his head away. He mumbled quiet 'no's but the boy didn't let up. "I said, what's in your pants?" Oikawa shook his head, but then suddenly a hand was pressed between his legs.

He kicked out, shoving away the boy as hard as he could. Thick, hot tears rolled down his cheeks, quiet whimpers leaving his lips. The boy glared at him. "So you haven't even got a dick," he muttered. Oikawa shook his head, his cheeks flushing red with shame.

Everyone began to laugh. And not just the boys – everyone in the corridor. Iwaizumi ran towards Oikawa, guilt twisting his stomach. "Oikawa," he said, only for the setter to hug onto him quickly, his entire body trembling. Iwaizumi looked up and sneered. "You bastards."

The laughing, at least, stopped. Iwaizumi gently took Oikawa by the hand, leading him outside, where he'd be a little safer. The two of them sat down in a small corner, Iwaizumi pulling Oikawa onto his lap sweetly. "Are you okay?"

Oikawa shook his head. Iwaizumi held his shaking body close, trying hard to calm him down. "What did they do to you?" he asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Oikawa shook his head again and hid his face in Iwaizumi's shoulder. "Please, Tooru."

"Th-They called me names," he said shakily, not looking at Iwaizumi. "And they... He p-put his hand... Iwa-chan, I'm never going to be a real man! No one is ever going to want me! I'm disgusting, everything about me is disgusting! Iwa-chan I don't want to live in this body!"

Iwaizumi's eyes widened. Oikawa had always described what he felt when he looked in the mirror, but he had never told him what he felt aside from that. "E-Everyone else is so great w-with themselves," Oikawa mumbled quietly. "And I'm j-just a worthless pervert..."

"Tooru, stop," Iwaizumi pleaded softly. He pulled away and cupped Oikawa's cheeks in gentle hands. "You're not worthless and you're definitely not a pervert. You're not disgusting. I want you. I will always want you, and you will never be disgusting to me."

Oikawa looked at him with wide, doubtful eyes. He wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand, sighing shakily. "But I'm n-not a real man," he mumbled. "I'll never be man enough.."

Iwaizumi shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss against Oikawa's forehead. Oikawa leaned into his touch sweetly. "Maybe not to other people," he said quietly, as though what he said was a secret only Oikawa should hear.

"Maybe not to your dad, or the teachers or those stupid girls. But you're a man to me. You're still man enough, with or without the kind of body I have. And you always will be."

Oikawa shut his eyes, leaning his head against Iwaizumi's chest. At least if no one else would ever look at him the same way, he had his Iwa-chan, who would always love him. "I love you, Hajime."

"I love you too, Tooru."