Archive of Our Own ^beta

Naoto let out a sigh as she pulled on her shoes. She really, really didn’t fancy going back out tonight, especially after the day she’d had. But sometimes her job required her to sacrifice her evenings, and that was something she’d signed up to when she decided to shoulder her family legacy.

Still, though, investigating a few Shinjuku bars as a lone woman wasn’t something she was enthusiastic about. At least it gave her an excuse to dip into the nostalgia of her high school days, donning her binder and a short wig in an attempt to pass for a man from a distance for the sake of her safety. It was surprisingly fun - getting to don her high school male persona again.

Just nostalgia. That was why her chest paradoxically loosened when she started binding, why putting on the act of a man made her feel more comfortable than she had in weeks.

Perhaps the way her clients had been treating her today was contributing to that relief, too. She hated working with the police - it was all pointed comments about her femininity and thinly-veiled digs about her competence. And yet despite her supposed feminine inferiority, they kept coming back to her when they hit a dead end on a case. Funny, that. 

Still, shedding the baggage of womanhood felt freeing. She thought she’d overcome her internalised struggles with the misogyny in the field of law enforcement as a teenager, but on days like these it hit her again full force. Reminders of her femininity built up and settled in her stomach like rocks until she wanted to claw off her skin and cut off her hair and escape from it completely. 

Somewhere deep inside of her, Yamato-Takeru stirred irritably. He was more and more vocal, these days, though he still didn’t speak to her the way he had when they had been fighting in the TV world as teenagers. She wondered why he was so restless – hadn’t she accepted herself as the woman she was years ago?

Before she could let her thoughts carry her away any further, Kanji popped his head out from where he’d been cleaning up in their kitchen.

“Heading out?” he asked, pulling his rubber gloves off.

She nodded. “I have to make a few enquiries on the Shiota case. A witness turned up this morning claiming she was last seen in one of the bars in the red light district, so I intend to ask around and see if anyone might have noticed her.”

Kanji frowned. His expressions had smoothed out a fair bit since his teenage years, but his expression of concern still resembled an angry scowl. “Want me to come with? Shinjuku at night ain’t exactly safe for ya.”

“I know,” she agreed, “which is why I’m dressed as I am. I expect much less trouble if people see me as a man, at least for a distance.”

He looked her up and down as he wandered out of the kitchen towards her. “Ya look nice like this, though. Reminds me of our first date, back in school.

“That- I was questioning you! You know it wasn’t a date!” She could feel her cheeks warming.

“Aww,” he said with an exaggerated pout, “you mean I had that whole sexuality crisis for nothing?”

“If our high school years taught us anything, Kanji, it’s that gaining a better self-understanding is never for nothing.”

He beamed at her and pecked her on the cheek. “Well, either way, it led me to you in the end. ‘s a win in my book. And, hey, if you wanna dress like this more often, I’m hardly complaining. I’ll love ya whatever.”

The tips of Naoto’s ears were probably turning a vivid red to match her cheeks. She smiled at her partner. “I love you too,” she murmured softly, before scurrying out the door in embarrassment.

Two hours. Two miserable hours on her feet with next to no leads. Almost nobody was familiar with Shiota’s name or description, and she’d had more than a few unpleasant interactions with the Shinjuku nightlife on her way. A few aggressive drunkards, some pushy hosts, a particularly unpleasant cop who nearly recognised her, and a particularly nasty potential witness who had taken her inquiries as a threat and had threatened to take a swing at her.

…Naoto wasn’t going to mention him to Kanji.

She supposed it had been flattering, the way that one of the hosts she’d spoken to had tried to offer her a job, telling her that “a handsome guy like you would draw in customers no problem!” It had warmed her to hear that her disguise was working, and she’d had to fight a small smile from spreading and ruining her professionalism for about an hour.

There had been a sweet drunk woman, too, throwing an arm around Naoto’s shoulders and trying to coax her into joining her and her friends’ bar crawl. She’d tensed up at the sudden contact, but it had certainly been a novel experience having a woman give him her number assuming he- she- was a man. Even though Naoto was pretty definitively not single, it was still quite fun to know that she made an attractive man.

On the flip side, there’d also been the vile but unfortunately very helpful partygoer who had recognised Shiota’s description and had pointed Naoto towards a small bar by the name of Crossroads where she was supposedly a regular. He’d then proceeded to go on an unhinged rant about how Shiota, and the others who frequented the bar, were disgusting freaks and started to go into detail about what he thought should happen to ‘cross-dressers’ that was, mercifully, cut short by his alcohol consumption catching up to him.

Thankfully, the reflexes instilled in Naoto by her time in the TV world and their training with the shadow ops in the years since had let her jump away before her shoes could be ruined. She then made a speedy exit, nauseous not only from the smell but from the fear of being clocked and what would have happened to him if he’d been noticed as, well, not a him.

What was with her this evening? Two hours in a binder and a suit and she was already reverting to her high school mindset, gaslighting herself into thinking she was really a boy. It wasn’t like she was even struggling to be respected the same way she had been back then. Things weren’t exactly easy, but it wasn’t nearly as dire as it had been then. Why was there still such a loud part of her that still wanted to be a man?

She ducked into Crossroads and took a few breaths to try and calm down. Thankfully, it was an easy place to do so – a kitschy little place with a small bar, a few booths, and a dartboard on the far wall. The whole place was draped with red velvet, gold sequins, and hearts in a way that wasn’t nearly as tacky as one might expect. Soft jazz played from speakers dotted about, not nearly enough to drown out the chatter of the bar’s patrons.

An intimidatingly tall and goth-looking young woman stepped into Naoto’s field of vision. Something seemed almost familiar about her face, especially with the black and red ensemble she was wearing, but Naoto couldn’t put her finger on it. The girl smiled at her gently, tossing her long black curls over one shoulder.

“Hey,” she asked, with a surprisingly deep voice, “you okay? Want to sit down?”

Naoto nodded, and the girl led her to an empty seat at the main bar, where a glass of water was placed in front of her by a woman in an elegant kimono who was, presumably, the proprietress of the establishment. She drank it greedily, before catching herself and slowing down.

The barkeeper laughed good-naturedly at her. “Can I get you anything stronger, young man?” she asked with a wink.

Naoto thought about it. What he wouldn’t give for an old fashioned right now, but- “No thank you, I shouldn’t be drinking on the job. Do you have any non-alcoholic beers? And maybe some yakitori, please?”

“Of course, honey. Akira-chan,” she called to the girl who had greeted Naoto at the door, “sort the man his food, would you?”

The girl – Akira – gave a cheeky salute, though her face stayed perfectly neutral. “On it, Mama Lala!”

Lala turned back to Naoto, busying herself with locating and pouring a bottle of Hoppy. “What kind of work brings a boy like you to Shinjuku on a Friday night, anyway? Some boss you must have.”

“Actually,” he started, “I’m a detective.”

In the corner of his- her, she had to stop doing that - eye, Naoto noticed Akira abandon her cooking station and bolt for the back room.

“You’re a cop?” Lala’s voice was suddenly frosty. She’d finished pouring Naoto’s drink, but wasn’t handing it over.

She shook her head. “A private detective. I’m looking into the disappearance of a young woman on the behest of her mother, since the police have refused to take it seriously. I was told she was a regular, so I was hoping to ask if anyone here might have seen her more recently.”

She hadn’t realised how much Lala had tensed until she relaxed again. “Well, I know all of my regulars personally, so if anyone’s seen or heard anything I’ll probably know. If I don’t, one of my friends might. She’s not here tonight, unusually, but I could pass on her details if you need.”

Naoto smiled. “I appreciate it, thank you.”

“Let me just check on my girl, and then I’ll take a look. Okay, honey?”

With that, she vanished into the back room after Akira. After a minute, during which Naoto took the opportunity to assemble her notes as she soaked in the comfortable atmosphere of the bar, Lala emerged with her young employee in tow. Shockingly, the girl now had a black and white cat in a fluorescent vest perched on her shoulder. When it caught her looking, Naoto could have sworn the cat gave her a death glare before pointedly rubbing itself against Akira’s cheek.

…She really must have been tired, if she was imagining passive aggression from a cat.

Lala returned to her position at the bar. “Tell me about this missing girl, then,” she ordered.

Naoto handed over a photo and began, “her name is Nagisa Shiota. Early 20s. Her mother reported her missing on Monday, saying that she’d gone to work on Friday and had never come home. The police are-“

“I know him,” Lala interrupted.

“That’s good. Have you seen her at all this last week? Did she tell you about anything that could have been cause for concern? A stalker, perhaps, or a dangerous route home?”

“And if he doesn’t want to be found?” Lala asked, cautiously.

The stress on the word ‘he’ didn’t go unnoticed, but- “I’ll have to verify that with Shiota-san, I’m afraid. His mother is incredibly worried.”

“His mother ,” Lala spat, “is part of the problem. I’m sure a young man like you can understand what people like her can be like about people like us. Not for the first time, the police not doing their jobs is in everyone’s best interest.”

Naoto nodded in understanding. He could see the outline of the case, now, and he understood Lala’s reticence to give out more information.

“…Though,” she continued, “I could probably arrange for him to send you a signed statement to that effect. I can respect professional ethics, you know.”

Naoto slid her business card across the bar. “I appreciate it. But what did you mean, people- people like us? I’m just- just a woman wearing this to stay safe. I’m not-”

Lala arched one eyebrow. “Are you sure, honey?”

Naoto took a sip of her beer. “When I was a teenager, certainly, I wanted to be a boy more than anything. I wore boys’ clothes, used masculine personal pronouns, did everything I could to be seen as one. But I grew out of that phase years ago.”

Lala’s eyebrow climbed further into her fringe. Why did Naoto feel so exposed? This woman was assuming things about her knowing nothing about her, and her assumptions were wrong? Why did she feel the need to scramble for a justification, to explain herself, with her heartbeat quickening and a churning in her stomach like there was something that she was afraid of approaching on the horizon? 

“It- it was just because of how female detectives are treated! I wanted to be respected and recognised by my peers in my field as my parents had been, and my grandfather before them. In my teenage naivety, I thought that becoming a man myself would make that possible. There was no… I didn’t hate being a girl or anything, I just wanted my life to be easier.” She didn’t sound convinced. With the way Lala’s eyes were burning into her, she didn’t even feel convinced.

Lala chuckled softly. “Let me tell you a story, honey. Once upon a time, there was a little boy who liked pretty things. He often thought to himself, “I wish I’d been born a girl like my sister. Then I’d be allowed to wear pretty things and have long hair and play with the girls.” He tried on his sister’s dresses and kimonos in secret, experimented with makeup when nobody could see him, and as he got older tried desperately to train himself to speak and move more elegantly. But he insisted that he was a man, said that he should learn to accept his role in society and that his desire to be a woman was just jealousy for the things his sister was allowed to have that he didn’t - the emotional honesty, the pretty things, and the openly affectionate attention. He tried so, so hard to get over that ‘jealousy’.”

“He insisted that was all it was until he was nearly forty years old and deeply unhappy. By that point, there were so many parts of her life that she couldn’t change or get back. And I’m happy now, I’ve built myself a life and a community filled with love and life and all the pretty little things I denied myself for decades, but I still look back at my younger self and wish I hadn’t denied myself all of that for so long. I wish I’d had more time being happy and myself than I did. And I look at you, with your whole life ahead of you, and I see that little girl looking back at me insisting that she doesn’t exist. Don’t throw your youth away chasing conformity, honey.”

“But what do I know? I don’t live inside that head of yours. I could be completely wrong.”

But she wasn’t. Naoto had been ready to ignore her at first, but… Her story resonated with him. The idea of talking himself out of something he desperately desired because it went against the things society told him he was allowed to want, of insisting that something he wanted - no, needed - on a spiritual level was only a manifestation of a lesser, more acceptable desire was something that, in his heart of hearts, he knew he was intimately familiar with.

Sitting here, in a binder and suit that he had jumped at the barest excuse to wear, having spent his evening warmed from the inside every time he was addressed as “sir” or “bro” or “young man”, waiting to go home to a boyfriend that he knew loved him no matter what but who had always preferred men and he’d felt comforted by that, he couldn’t deny the truth of her words. 

It wouldn’t be easy. If he thought the police treated women poorly as it was, god knew how they would treat someone visibly transitioning. It might not even be right. In his years as a teen living as a boy he hadn’t exactly been happy that way, but looking back he could see the mockery from those who saw him as a silly little girl playing dress up for what it was. They had never believed his “disguise” in the first place, just humoured him as they laughed at him behind his back. The fact that he hadn’t realised how crushingly lonely he was at the time probably hadn’t helped, either. 

But he could be wrong. He could still just be a woman, dissatisfied with her life and searching for any way to change something.

But who did it hurt to try? If he was wrong, he was wrong, and no harm would be done to anything but his reputation among people who would never truly respect him anyway. But if he was right…

He downed the rest of his beer and stood up. “Thank you, Lala-san. I needed to hear that. I have to head home, but I cannot express enough how appreciative I am of your help tonight.”

She waved him away with a laugh and pointedly ignored his outheld payment for his drink and the food he’d never received. “It’s no problem, honey. People like us have to look out for one another, after all. Though, if you’ll allow this old woman to give you one last piece of advice…?”

Naoto smiled at her. “I’d gladly hear it.”

“Stop working with the cops.”

Behind her, her young employee - Akira - nodded emphatically. Her service cat continued to glare at Naoto from her shoulder, and if Naoto were a more anthropomorphically-minded person, like Yu or Teddie, he would have said that it was nodding in agreement too.

“...I’ve been considering it.”

“Good. Now, off home with you. A young man like you shouldn’t be out working this late.”

Naoto smiled at her, bowed politely, and left. As he closed the door on the comforting warmth of the bar and faced the cold air of reality, he knew his resolution was still the correct one. How could he take pride in being a member of the Investigation Team if he wasn’t willing to do what it took to pursue his true self?

In the back of his head, in the space between his mind and his heart, he heard Yamato-Takeru laugh.

It’s taken you long enough.