Kintsugi: the golden repair // Hanemiya Kazutora x Reader

Chapter Three tender age in bloom

During the end of the semester, graduating elementary school and getting ready to enter middle school, Y/n had officially grown out of her training bras. She mourned the loss for approximately three minutes. Her internet browsing history had started with: cute bras. The unruly sea of the world wide web had led her down the rabbit hole. She clicked, cute matching sets. She clicked, sexy matching sets. She clicked, sexy lingerie. Click, click, click. Women's curvy bodies filled the screen. By the time Y/n had clicked her finger sore she was staring at naked women's curvy bodies. Holy shit I'm gunna look like that! Well, well, well, being a woman doesn't seem half bad. She went back to the cute matching sets. These seemed like the only appropriate option to bring to her mother.

Most of her time off from school had been spent at her grandparent's home. She didn't realize how much she had missed them until she was hugging her grandfather tight. She spent the days out with her grandmother and mom running errands. Her nights were spent with Grampa, sitting on the back porch, drinking soda while he sipped on a can of beer. She told him all about Tokyo and her best friend Kazutora. With school quickly approaching their vacation had to be cut a few days short. There were no local stores carrying anything the preteen deemed worthy of wearing.

After Hurricane Hormones was done venturing every possible underwear section her mother would let her near, Y/n was back home. She stood in front of her full-length mirror. It was nailed up on the back of her bedroom door. Her reflection showed her off in one of the matching sets. Baby blue with lacy ruffles. This stupid wire. She adjusted the bra, adjusted her boobs, adjusted the straps a bit too tight to give the illusion of cleavage. Y/n noticed the way her waist was losing its childish paper shape. Her hips a bit more prominent. After her mother had seen their shared computers search history, she sat down with her daughter and pulled up the images.
"What do you see in each of these picture's Y/n?"
"I see, um," she coughed into her fist, "well boobs, and hair. Some of them are so hairy mo-"

Her mother held her hand up to let her daughter know it was time to stop. Trying hard not to laugh at the serious topic her mother's original shock softened,
"I see all different shapes and sizes honey. That's what is so great about being a woman, you are authentically you. No two bodies are the same."
Those words bouncing off the walls of her brain as she checked herself out again. Well this body is nice! Y/n slapped her hand across her stomach and for the strangest reason the impact had left a resonating pain in her core. The ache was enough to make her double over using the door as support. Just as quickly as it came the discomfort vanished. She made eye contact with herself, "Well that was weird, wouldn't you say?" She stood up, preparing to try on the next matching set, when right smack dab in the middle of all that baby blue was blood red.

The last week of vacation Y/n didn't see Kazutora at all. Even if she had managed to crawl out of bed past salty junk food, sugary sweets, and tear-jerking cheesy romance movies, Y/n wouldn't have seen Kazutora anywhere within the vicinity of their shared apartment building. His newfound confidence, antics with Baji, and rampage of testosterone had left him with only one conclusion: By the time I go back to school, I'll be a brand-new man. I'm a middle schooler now. Not a kid anymore. He had let Baji pierce his ear with a sewing needle, but the hole quickly closed up. Well, if a piercing won't work a tattoo will. He had managed to convince an artist located in a hole-in-the-wall shop to tattoo a tiger head on his neck. His only reference photo was in a birthday card. "I want this but more badass."
"You're definitely a badass kid." the tattoo artist commented, bringing the needle down.
Finally, he looked at the mop of hair on top of his head. This shit makes me look like a baby. A good two shoes snot nosed brat. He got it chopped and the barber showed him how to style it by himself. He felt as bold as he looked; his former self and former life gone.

Y/n had woken up much earlier than necessary on her first day of middle school. She took her uniform off of its hanger and laid it on her bed. White button up, check. Red striped tie, check. Beige skirt, check. Knee high socks, check. Brown Mary-Janes, check. Next to go on the bed was the items that needed to go under the uniform. Deodorant, check. Body spray, check. Matching bra and undies, check and check. It's all coming together. Y/n showered, staying in her towel she sat in a kitchen chair in front of her mirror to style her hair. Then applied mascara and Chapstick. She had practiced the mascara several times the past week to avoid stabbing herself in the eye or looking like a raccoon. Dried and dressed she made her way down the hall and into the kitchen to find her mother crying into her morning coffee. Y/n's mom looked up and burst into louder sobs. "M-my ba-ba-babyyy is all gro-grown up." Y/n's hormones figured the only acceptable response would be to roll her eyes. "Mom stop, you're watering down your coffee."
"I made you lunch, unless of course, you want to buy lunch in the cafeteria. Maybe, maybe, you don't need my lunches annyyymoooore." Y/n slipped the bento box into her backpack. "You're deranged, of course I want your lunches." Her mother gave her a mild smile. "You have a good day at school beautiful." Y/n gave her mom a big squeeze of a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Bye Momma. I'll see you later."