I'm packing up my crayons and leaving

Chapter 3~

Time skip 2 weeks later

Bakugos POV

I told the hag I lost the jacket. She keeps bitching about said lost jacket. Fuck her tho. I know Izu has it, hell she wears it almost all the time.

If she likes the fucking jacket she might as well keep it.

I make my way to our spot. She is already there waiting.

Her long hair is blowing in the wind. 

"Izumi,"
"Kacchan" she giggles

I sit down and pull out a book. We sit in silence.

Izumi leans and rests her head on my shoulder. She keeps playing with her hair.

"Want me to pick it up?"
"Hm?"
"Your hair?"
"what about it?"
"Fucks sake, want me to put up your hair?"
"Oh um sure Kacchan."

I run my fingers through the long green locks. I make a set of braids, it suits her. Still, she plays with them. A habit that over the years I've picked up on, when she feels down she plays with, twirls, and even pulls her hair.

I take out the braids. Restyling her hair into a bun. Izu reaches up to her shoulders grabbing for hair, she doesn't find it and I could see the tiniest shimmer in her eyes.

~Time Skip~
A week later

Bakugo's POV

I have always been observant especially when it comes to Izumi. Since the first time I styled her hair, she asks me every day. I carry hair ties for her now. She seems happiest when her hair doesn't touch her shoulders so I learn different styles to keep it fun while keeping it fully up.

Recently I've also noticed her clothing got baggier than before. Not by a lot but now it's not tight against her waist.

She seems happier than before, more complete.

She smiles more but still, something is off.

I want to help my friends out but what am I supposed to do when I don't even know the problem.

In the meantime, I will do whatever I can to keep her smiling and eventually I'll see her actually happy.

Izumi's POV

Why do I feel like this?

I look in the mirror and hate everything I see.
My checks are too round and puffy. My eyes too big. My nose too small. My hips too wide and my shoulders too narrow. My hair too long and far too tangled and my freckles make me look like a child.

I'd give the world to be Kacchan. He and his perfect hair, and his perfectly angled jaw. Perfectly broad shoulders. Not to mention his quirk.

Mommy says it's because Kacchan is a boy. That's why he is shaped the way he is, with border shoulders and a better jaw and a less squishy face.

Why do I have to be trapped as a girl? I hate the way my body curves and it's soft edges. Even my hands aren't like Kacchan's. Far too small and dainty making me look fragile.

Is there a word for this feeling? For the pure unadulterated hatred of one's own body, a body that you feel doesn't belong to you.