Work Text:
If one was human for any reason, it was to reach the pinnacle of art and aesthetic. Of this, Shu was sure. The human form was largely imperfect - it was constraining, demanding, a canvas that constantly morphed and destroyed the artistry that one tried to adorn it with. Of course Shu would never admit defeat with this and had proved that thoroughly with Valkyrie, what a human form could do in the hands of a proper artist, but it was undeniable that there was much more to be asked of the body’s design.
Gender was no small factor in this. Oh, yes, it was largely irrelevant when it came to beauty though Shu supposed there were small preferences in some particular visions whenever extensive thought to it was given but overall, it was nothing to concern with. How ridiculous it was to constrain the vision of beauty to the poor taste of the masses - Shu was far above that!
However.
However…
Perhaps there was one boundary that Shu would not cross.
Shu strove for refinement. Perfection. Wherever there was art, there was the possibility of perfection. The form that one took could be almost perfect. It was the same for gender, in Shu’s eyes. Such purposefulness in the performance, no matter which one someone wished to portray. It was a shame that Shu could not perform womanhood in such a refined manner.
Yes, yes, what was womanhood anyway? A compilation of expectations and disappointments, set standards, a wish and a dream? To define it by others was completely asinine - Shu was no stranger to standing against the crowd in favour of greater ideals, greater heights! What influence should they have? And yet the societal construction of gender felt inescapable and, disregarding it or not, Shu would have to engage with it. Grapple and come to terms or succumb in some way. Which was best? Which was Shu doing now?
It was not difficult to roll from these thoughts to reminisce on when it was not as complicated. Casting thoughts back to childhood was always bitter in so many ways but there were trace amounts of sweetness. Yes, Shu was admonished and shunned by the other children for the frills and dresses that adorned a carefully curated closet (alongside other reasons) but it wasn’t wrong on that form. There was a blissful ambiguity in prepubescence, the freedom of a canvas still morphing before a decision was made. There were no red flags raised when Shu walked down a street. There was no way to tell that Shu may have been doing something wrong. Certainly, the punishment and admonishment would come for those who knew but there would be blissful times where the world seemed to smile upon these choices and even encourage them further.
But Shu had a human body and so it changed. The ambiguity that Shu had foolishly assumed would always be there had been carved away and sharpened into something else. More defined. Less pleasing. It was likely that no matter what Shu would have been sharpened into, there would have been an issue - Shu had a distinctive hatred of sudden change - but it was evident that this was much, much worse.
Even though Shu’s hands were no less capable at crafting the wondrous dresses that so filled childhood, Shu was less inclined to make ones that could fit this new frame. So Shu didn’t. Of course, the style and aesthetic remained - daring frills, light colours and material, layers wherever they could be fit - but they were left to shirts and cuffs. Still good, still beautiful creations, just not what they used to be.
Shu tried to think of this as a challenge. Of course, many artists have thrived and found their true voice through the restriction of potential materials - in fact, Shu could consider this a type of training and testing that only someone of a similar calibre could handle. Other designers would crumble if they undertook the same challenge…!
But Shu knew. Shu knew.
It was partly resignation that tampered with the work Shu put out. No doubt, Shu was professional so any requested dress would be gorgeous but the resignation embellished into the seams made the piece appear bittersweet, if only to Shu. It was quite frustrating. It fueled desire to neglect those pieces altogether but Shu wouldn’t allow this to tamper so directly with artistry.
It was the easiest thing in the world to make a robe for Narukami. She wasn’t so bad, brutal assailment by the collar in Mika’s name notwithstanding, and there were many things Shu admired about her. Her perusal of her own gender, for one. Not just done but express… delight. She did not just seem a woman but seemed fully happy to be one and it blossomed through each day.
Shu couldn’t claim envy so Shu wouldn’t. What did any of this have to do with Narukami? Shu didn’t even have to see her often. Shu didn’t have to think about this often.
And in any case, if Shu was thinking of… something… it was important to be reminded that Shu was far from a potential ideal.
There was a reason that Shu had said it was not possible to understand Mademoiselle as a woman. That reason was bitter on the tongue but had to be swallowed.
Even then, Shu was shoddy as a man. Whatever that had meant whenever others had said it. No matter how Shu behaved, there was something that had to be punished about it. Something lurking beyond the surface, beyond Shu’s too tight skin that everyone seemed able to see and automatically attacked. Too dainty, too delicate, too high strung, too feminine, to be a true man but to be a woman was absolutely out of the question. And a fear crept up sometimes that Shu would remain a genderless being. Not in the way that some were and happy to be so. That was something chosen.
Shu meant forced degendering. The stripping of choice completely. The constant pushback against something that no one understood yet, not even Shu yet.
If Shu held this up to the light, clasped that fragile thing named gender and held it to the light, then Shu would see-
Well. Did it matter?
According to Mika Kagehira, it did.
Shu’s partner in art, earnest while doing his nearly forgotten t shot in the afternoon only after Shu reminded him. Mika who found abandoned torn apart plushies and sewed them with alternating blue, pink and white thread, just for the pleasure of the inside joke. Who made the strangest and funniest little offhand comments about his gender, things about it being boat-like or halloween-like and stared at Shu with a distracted “Ngah…?” when Shu asked him to expand.
The core tenants of manhood had been carved into Shu - they had never seeped beyond the skin but he could still read out the words etched onto it. Mika took one look at those etched words and filled them in with his own ramblings and queries and jokes and comments. Not a single ounce of reverence for them, not a single ounce of shame about his cheerful disregard of them.
There was a certain pleasure for Shu in just watching him. Mika had always been an interesting specimen with gorgeous features that made Shu’s fingers itch to adorn and polish into a finished work of art, this was certain. But Shu’s attention would begin to catch other things too - the binder peeking out of the shirt, the unchanged way he spoke…
Now, now, what did Shu expect? There would be no speaking like a ruffian in Valkyrie anyway, Shu wouldn’t allow such a thing, and it was not like Shu would ever consider doing anything like revoking Mika’s manhood due to playful gender quips or anything else for that matter other than Mika’s own retraction of it and it was ridiculous for Shu to even note that as if gender was some cage that one couldn’t escape from-
But wasn’t Shu treating it like that? A cage? Didn’t Shu allow its rules to dictate so much, even down to creations? Didn’t Mika’s daily, flagrant disregard of what it was supposed to mean ‘to be a man’… Prove Shu could flagrantly disregard what it meant ‘to be a woman’.
Hiding from Narukami was doable. Mika was impossible. And everyday, Shu felt an urge… A consideration…
There were moments when Shu touched him. Especially during maintenance. When Shu could feel every tentative muscle. Body more fragile than he would like and the bruises from his exceptional clumsiness - yet on stage he had all the grace of a ballerina, fairy, valkyrie. Maintenance, honestly, was for both of them. This thought… This… wish that Shu examined carefully, first held close to the chest, transferred to the brain and then back to the chest when the head was filled with harsh truths that seeked to let it die.
Mika’s body. Mika’s strength. Wasn’t that also truth?
Didn’t Shu also have a truth? Didn’t Shu also have… a vision of art? Was that not worthy of being shown to the world?
Perhaps… Perhaps… Despite the imperfections… Despite her reservations…
She would let herself be a woman regardless.