Archive of Our Own

When Hajime Hinata meets his crush at their usual spot, the last thing he expects to come out of his mouth are the words, “What’s that?” in lieu of a greeting.

Normally, he isn’t that rude. But rude diverges from normal, which is what got him in the Reserve Course Program in the first place. So maybe what he said wasn’t so bad after all. And considering the abrupt change to phone screen from her usual hand-hold consoles, his curiosity can’t help but be let out of its cage.

“Project Sekai,” the Super High-School leveled Crush—ha!—answers. Doesn’t look up from her phone, eyes narrowing from nearly missing the upcoming notes. 

It takes everything in Hajime to not fidget while he stands awkwardly. She's done this before, too focused on completing the current level to lift her head up and make eye contact. It was irritating, to say the least. He had to remind himself repeatedly that she’d do this to any student. That’s just how Ultimates like her work.

“Huh. I don’t think I’ve seen you play a modern game since we’ve started gaming together.”

For a long minute, Hajime worries he’s going to be ignored; if Hopes Peak’s Ultimates didn’t mock him, they pretended he didn’t exist.

His relationship with the resident “Gamer Girl” differs from the rest of the school. Ignoring the unwritten rules of Ultimates not interacting with the Reserve Course students, she stands out.

He initially thought the Ultimate didn’t care about such rules, the fabric that makes up social life at Hopes Peak Academy. Learning more about her… it seems more accurate to say she doesn’t even know. Crazy.

Part of him wonders what she’d do if she was aware, if they’d still interact. A larger part of Hajime (that also wonders if it’s his job to tell her, to explain why their relationship is weird and wrong) is too scared to dig deeper, to poke and prod for an answer and let h he doesn’t want to hear—especially when he he isn’t even sure that they’re even friends.

He can only pray and hope that she doesn’t finally find out the truth, why people like her and someone like him are usually separate. That she doesn’t see him for what he truly is: a nobody.

“…Yeah,” she replies. It isn’t much, but a response is still a response nonetheless. “My favs may be the OGs but I really am open to all types of video games.”

“Oh? Then what genre is, uh…” Lips curve into an awkward smile. “Er, I’m sorry, but can you repeat the name..?”

“Project Sekai,” the Ultimate answers a bit too quickly to be normal. She stays glued to the screen, yet there’s mirth in her eyes that wasn’t there before. Tension rushes out from Hajime’s shoulders. “It’s a rhythm game featuring vocaloids like Hastune Miku, and the game’s OCS.”

“Right, uh…” He does NOT want to look stupid in front of the Ultimate. “Just as a reminder, OC means…?”

“Original characters.” There’s barely a difference in her tone that Hajime nearly breathes in a sigh of relief right there and then. 

“Got it.” Actually, he doesn’t in the slightest: “Aren’t all characters “original characters” by definition, though?” 

“Mhm…sorta. Vocaloids came from a different source while Prosekai characters originated from… well, the game.” A contemplative hum. “A lot of vocaloid fans didn’t initially like them—they felt the OCS was taking away from their favs. Luckily, as the OCS received more development they became more well liked. And new Vocaloid fans enjoy both the new OCs and the older vocaloids…I think.”

“Oh.”

She doesn’t look up from her phone, but Hajime isn’t oblivious to the way her shoulders sag. “Sorry. Too much?”

“No!” He puts his hands up in protest. “No. Not at all,” you could never be too much, he doesn’t say. “Just…” A hand goes to his chin. “I never considered how much background there is to rhythm games. They’re not my area of expertise so hearing it from someone that is…”

“Interesting?”

“I was more thinking of the word inspiring, to be honest.”

“Oh.” The compliment doesn’t make his crush lift his head up, but there’s a rosiness to her cheeks that wasn’t there before. “Thanks… I think.”

Hajime furrows his eyebrows at the last part of her sentence, but lets it go. “Yeah. Of course.” It's the truth, he doesn’t say, in lieu of watching the Gamer Girl finally finish the song, switching from flicking notes to staring at score results. When a pink haired ponytailed girl appears on screen, he blinks and points. “Who’s that?”

For the first time in the conversation, she glances up at him, slightly jumping at the sound of his voice. His heart leaps out of his chest. Her expression remains largely blank, yet Hajime isn’t naive to the way her grip on her controller tightens. The ends of her lips curve into a taut frown. 

He nearly takes back his question when she answers, “Mizuki Akiyama.” The Ultimate points to her device, where the singer poses. “…Mizuki is my favorite.”

“Oh. How come? Is it because of your shared hair color?”

The gamer doesn’t say anything, but the fact she pauses from gaming altogether is telling. Eyes flit from Hajime to her device as she contemplates on answering; he fidgets in place. Yet somehow, something about his appearance convinces her to do so. “Mizuki is a lot of what I want to be,” she admits. “Outgoing, brave, loud, expressive…” As she explains, she goes back to her phone, scrolling through what seems to be various official artworks. “But what stands out is Mizuki’s identity. I relate to that a lot.”

“Oh? Is she a video gamer, like you?”

“No, that’s wrong…” The words spill out of her mouth, before she hesitates. “Or… well.” The Ultimate Gamer adjusts her hoodie, covering part of her face. Her eyes still don’t meet his gaze. “She does play games but that’s…. that’s not what I relate to her about.” At the tilt of Hajime’s head, she takes a breath, unclenching her hoodie. 

“Mizuki… is trans.”

“…Oh.” Then— “Oh!” He’s unable to stop himself from gawking. “Wait, so are you…?“

“I…” His crush doesn’t say anything, but based on context alone… Hajime can draw his own conclusions.

“It’s. Uhm, fine if you are.” He holds out his hands reassurably. “I get it—Well, I mean, not get it, get it,” he clarifies. “I’m not…” He takes a deep breath. “That is to say, I know people…” He cringes. 

Gods, what is he doing? 

“…I know of people that are...” Transgender, he doesn’t say. Everyone seen at least one celebrity on TV. And he’s even seen people admit to being trans in chatboxes or message forums. Heard people complain about videogames that included transgender people. “But I’ve never interacted with them on a one-to-one basis before; there weren't many people that were transgender that are also part of the gaming community.” 

The Gamer makes a cough that if it were anyone else, Hajime would call a mix between a frustrated huff and a soft chuckle. “…Maybe you’ve never properly interacted with enough people outside of your own social sphere. I personally met so many transgender people in the gaming community that nearly all my online friends today are transgender.”

“Oh.” Hajime blinks. When she—they—the Gamer brings out the truth like that… It’s hard not to realize the reality of her words.

It is true; while Hajime does spend quite a lot of his time on the Internet, he barely interacts outside of the forums he frequents—if he even interacts at all. Or maybe he never paid attention or took note. Gender isn’t something he had to think about as a man more than a woman would in Japan. Or whatever the Ultimate is. 

Speaking of which… “Do you, uh, still go by your title, then?” At her expression, he adds, “Since you’re the Gamer Girl.” The girl that plays games. It was practically their official moniker.

“…It’s just SHSL—Super High School Level Gamer. The girl part is added from other students.” A finger to the person’s lips. “Which is weird since we only have one Ultimate Gamer compared to all our lucky students.” 

Said ultimate didn’t voice everything aloud but there’s so much being said in what itself is revealed. The double standard, the demanded feminization—how despite being only one of their Ultimate, only she—if Hajime can even call her that—get referred to specifically by gender, or supposed identity.

Hajime clears his throat, bringing the student back. “So… you’ll stick with your title.”

“Yeah. You can’t change it.. I think. But uhm…” The Ultimate Gamer chews her lips. “Please dont think of me as a girl.”

He scrunches his eyebrows. “If you aren’t a girl, what are you then? A boy?”

And she is… what does it say for Hajime Hinata? 

It’s simple, after all, whenever a boy likes girls. But if the girl Hajime likes turns out to be a boy… What does it mean for him? Would he still imagine her by his side at the fountain, teaming up with one another in video games? Would he still dream of being in her class together, sitting across from each other as desk-mates? Would Hajime still imagine having her in his life, holding her—his hand?

Glancing back at the Ultimate, he’s surprised at his own answer, “Whatever you are, I still like you. As a friend,” he adds the last part hastily, because it’s true. Friend or crush, she was an important part of Hajime’s life. She manage to see his ordinariness and found something within him that’s valuable enough for an Ultimate to stay. That’s something—if not, more than most people.

If she also is something else, boy or girl… that's between Hajime and his thoughts late at night.

“Oh.” She tilts her head, revealing a grateful smile. “I feel the same. No matter what, we’ll always be friends.” Her admittance brought a level of reassurance Hajime didn’t know he needed to hear. 

She—his friend takes a deep breath. Exhales, before confessing, “I’m neither.”

“…Huh?”

“You heard right,” she says gently enough that it makes him relax against his worry of messing up. “I don’t see myself as a girl or boy. I don’t like the expectations of either. And the rules aren’t as consistent, unlike how games are.”

“To be fair, there’s a lot of games that aren’t consistent either, be it gameplay or stylization,” Hajime can’t help but point out. She—his friend—gives him a dry look that makes him crack a smile in response.

“My point is,” his friend continues dryly. “I’ve never…” Fingers fidget with stray threads from their threadbare jacket. Eyes stay glued to the ground, but this time, Hajime doesn’t take it personally; nervousness always makes him avert his own eyes from whoever he talks to. “I’ve never fit into the expectations of a girl. And a guy wouldn’t fit me either, I think. Being neither—or nonbinary—is what fits me best.”

“That’s great.” And Hajime means that despite the equal parts of both relief and disappointment from his crush not being a boy. He compartmentalizes that segment of his brain for later. “Genuinely, that’s great. What does this mean for you? Are you going to start dressing up androgynously?”

“I don’t know about a whole closet change…” His friend admits. Fingers scratch the face, reminding Hajime of all the dating simulators the Ultimate Gamer—of all people!—complains about. “I never paid much attention to my appearance. I don’t think that’ll change, even now, honestly. I like my style, no matter how I’m seen.”

He nods, secretly thanking the gods. Much as he’s curious to see how… his friend would pull a more masculine presentation, he doubts his heart can handle it. “As for referring to you...?”

“Chiaki Nanami—the Ultimate Gamer.” It’s followed by a cheeky smile. “In English, I’d use They/She—and in that order… I think.”

He resists the urge to correct her—his crush—his friend—Chiaki Nanami (because that is what they are, above all), on their supplementary words. “That’s good to know. I—uh, won’t be perfect. But!” Hajime adds quickly. “…I’ll always recognize you for who you are, Nanami-san.”

Chiaki Nanami: Ultimate Gamer.

No longer on simply just a rose-colored pedastel, white and blue join the fray, recognizing their full identity than someone he merely liked. Realizing that this is someone that always struggles to make eye struggles. That they can mainly connect to others through the topic of games, or they seldom speak at all. How they need time to process and speak.

How they aren’t just a Gamer “Girl.”

They offer a small, lopsided, smile in response. It’s soft and serene and absolutely does not do things to Hajime's heart. “Thank you, Hinata-kun, for the support. It means a lot. You’re the best.”

Maybe one day, he can believe that too.

For now, he lets out a chuckle, and asks, “Good enough for me to sit beside you?” And when the Ultimate Gamer says yes, he takes that answer over the truth.