JJBA x Readers

Rohan Kishibe : More Than This

This was a request for TimothyIsGay69

I'm sorry if it wasn't what you were hoping, I'm unsure if you are transgender yourself, but I am not transgender so I could only imagine the struggle one must go through feeling alien in their body. I didn't want to assume or claim I "know" or understand, I can only sympathise and try to empathise, since this is a very important subject, as it's very real to so many people, but I've tried my best to be respectful of that, I have friends who have transitioned so I tried to get into their heads, and imagine how they must have felt when beginning to go through those changes.

I hope you like what I came up with!

The great, brilliant Rohan. What would he think? What would he say?
What would others think of him?

It was all so biting on your brain. In the mirror before you, all you could see was a shadow. You weren't even a shell of your former self, because that person no longer existed. However, at the same time you were not the person you wished to become either. They were almost like a familiar stranger, a person you hated running into just to engage in falsified greetings because your body was running faster than your brain. Inside, you were male, you knew this. Your body just had to... Catch up.
Of course, it wasn't that easy. Every time you pulled at putty-like skin on your hips it disgusted you, your wide curves befitting of nothing more than bearing children, something you felt you did not fit the role for. Your chest, even hidden away in a binder constrained only visual appearance - not the hardened feelings latching onto your straining lungs, as you gasped for breath through your blind panic. Your face was pillowy and soft, like a squidgy marshmallow melting away on a fire. Being barbecued to nothing more than ash. You yearned for a chiseled, hardy and more masculine appearance,  but you could not imagine it, no matter how hard you tried.
The pit in your stomach was warning you off of seeing your crush now. He couldn't see you like this. The baggy clothes hadn't been doing their job on your chest and you wondered what he would say when he saw you had bound yourself through the thin fabric.

Drowning in women as he was, you feared he would cast you aside once you proved you couldn't even play the part in a traditional sexual relationship. You didn't want to act anymore. When he complimented your features, it made you feel so much worse. What he saw was wrong, and you were afraid you tell him what he should be seeing because... He was Rohan, the mangaka.
A door opening dragged you from your thoughts, breath catching in your throat as you turned around.
Stood in all his glory was the majestic Rohan Kishibe, staring at you, confused.
"I was starting to think you were in trouble, you could have answered the door."
"Oh, um, sorry..." you muttered, avoiding eye contact. Of course he was disappointed in you. Why did you even bother?
Tears collected behind your eyes, building up like a volcano ready to burst.
"Well, at least I had a key." Striding over to your bed, he placed himself on the plush fabric, relieving himself of his heavy bags and inspecting the quiet. You were silent, aside from a couple of sniffles.
"You don't have to stay if you have more important things to do."
"I'm the great mangaka Rohan Kishibe, I always have more important things to do than sit in your room waiting for you."
There was an awkward pause as he gauged the situation. "But I do it anyway... Because I want to. You are my muse, after all."
"Rohan," you stammered, sitting beside him. He looked into your eyes as you finally looked at him, unsure. You wanted to tell him... So badly. But you couldn't. Your mouth remained sealed shut. Instead, you smiled and nuzzled his arm, leaving your seat to reckon with the polished glass again. "I'm tired. I'm sorry if you wanted to hang out."
"Well, we can still hang out while you're napping."
You didn't look much like you were napping but, Rohan left you to your head. For at least half an hour. All that could be heard besides the high pitched screaming in your head were the swipes of pencils on paper, detailing something. Sighing, he eventually began to speak up. You were so lost in that bastard mirror. He had noted the discarded packaging for binders and sports bras in your bin, confirmed by your straighter looking frame. Neutral makeup shades littered various places in your room, surrounded by other shapeshifter's tools, the clean boxers hanging out of your untidy drawers were definitely yours, something only he could deduce as a close friend in your private sanctuary. You were not happy with yourself, that much he could tell, and it pained him so. You had made all these changes, yet they seemed to make you no happier.
Fleeing to grab his sketchbook, pages and pages were flipped to reveal drawings and candids of you all over the pages. He rustled to get your attention.
Some you liked, some you didn't, but this man watched you all the time - how couldn't he notice??
"You're wondering why I didn't notice the binder or the hair, aren't you?"
Subconsciously swiping your fringe, he took your hand to stop you from touching your skin.  "The truth is, I did. Of course I did, I've noticed a number of changes lately- the main one being how much time you spend looking in that mirror." Stepping forward, his face was dark and focused. "So I'll ask you, why do you spend so much time looking at your reflection?"
"Because.... I wish it would change."
Ha. As he thought. "Sometimes I wish it would shift my body before my eyes."
"I know, that's why I made you this."
Turning his hand, he uncovered a beautiful portrait of the reflection you yearned to see. Had he really pieced this together via your thoughts and behaviour? (Probably not, it was probably his power's doing...)
"All I see is your pure heart, Y/N, and if you ask me, that's all that matters."
You began to tear up. This fucking guy.
"Rohan, I... I feel as though I'm man. You know, inside? Well, I'm slowly trying to become one on the outside. I guess that makes me... Trans?"
"I know. But you aren't fooling me with any sorts of labels. You are who you are, you're Y/N and you'll remain my muse, no matter how you look. It's your personality, how you hold and compose yourself, the sorts of actions to perform... Things like that. Those are what make you befitting of my muse." Handing the drawing to you, you appreciated his attention to detail. He truly cared about your feelings, it showed through in his picture.
"You can look at this instead of your reflection, and work on it. We can create a series of drawings based on your transition - like a timeline of how far you've come. Each one will look as beautiful as the last, I know so, because you're going to be in each one."
"Thank you... So much."
You weren't expecting him to be so calm about it.
"I love your kind, bright heart. How you encase it doesn't matter."