Saturday mornings were supposed to be peaceful.
That was one of the fundamental laws of the universe.
At least, that’s always how I presumed things to be.
Clearly the past few weekends had shattered such preconceived notions.
I was hoping that today could be an outlier, a return to form.
Alas, the universe said no.
I sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast while scrolling through my phone.
I made myself an American style breakfast, some bacon and eggs.
Pancakes, of course.
Was in the mood for something different and this definitely hit the spot.
I scarfed down my breakfast in record time.
I put my hands on the back of my head and leaned back on the living room sofa.
For once, there was nothing on my schedule.
No plans whatsoever.
I was debating if I wanted to continue my RL1 run in Elden Ring or if I wanted to shoot some hoops outside.
Both sounded tantalizing.
I chose the former, and as I was popping the game disk into my PS5, my phone buzzed.
I immediately frowned.
I looked down to see who had messaged me.
Kiyomi.
Of course.
I opened the message.
Kiyomi:
Hey Onni-chan.
Are you busy?
I stared at the screen.
Whenever Kiyomi asked if I was busy, it usually meant she was about to make me busy.
And not in any way, shape, or form a kind of busy I would enjoy.
I begrudgingly typed back.
Should’ve just ignored it and got back to gaming.
What do you want?
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then reappeared.
That should have been my warning.
She was clearly having difficulty trying to phrase whatever she was trying to get me to do in the most palatable way possible.
I need someone to go to the mall with me.
I shook my head.
No.
Kiyomi replied almost instantly.
Wow!
That was fast.
I chuckled.
I’m learning.
Took her about a minute to respond this time.
You’re really going to let your precious little sister wander around the mall all alone?
I rolled my eyes.
Starting with the guilt trip early I see.
The blaring music of the main menu screen hit my ears.
Song is hype.
I finally replied.
You’ll survive.
She messaged back faster this time.
Maybe.
Maybe Not.
I was picturing all the likely scenarios of her going to the mall by herself and pretty much every single one ended up with her returning home with a bunch of crap she didn’t need.
As per usual.
You’ll be fine.
You’re seventeen now.
The infamous three dots appeared once more.
Exactly.
A vulnerable young maiden.
I burst out laughing.
Nobody has ever described you that way.
She texted back at lightning speed.
Rude 😠
I shrugged my shoulders.
Wait a minute, why is she asking me to go with her?
She has like a million friends.
Somehow she was really popular at school.
Why aren’t you going with your friends?
A few seconds passed.
They’re busy.
I raised an eyebrow.
All of them?
She messaged back immediately.
Yes.
My bullshit alarm went off once more.
I don’t believe you.
I received her response about a minute later.
Okay.
Most of them are busy.
I knew it.
But now I was really starting to worry.
What was this little gremlin’s plan?
And the others?
Once again her reply was nearly instantaneous.
I don’t like them enough.
I chuckled at that.
At least you’re honest.
My phone buzzed again a second later.
So you’ll come?
Seriously?
No, woman.
No means no.
No.
I checked my inventory to make sure my set up was good for the next boss fight when I got her response.
Wow.
Mom would be very disappointed.
I resoundingly shook my head.
This girl.
Don’t bring Mom into this.
My gear looked good to go for the next fight.
Godskin Duo, in case you were wondering.
Had my sleep pots and everything.
My phone buzzed once more.
Imagine how she’d feel.
Her beloved son abandoning his little sister.
Really putting on extra layers onto that guilt trip today, huh?
It’s a guilt trip cake.
Or ogre.
Or onion.
They’ve all got layers.
You’re laying it on a little thick.
Her reply was instant.
Am I?
I let out a sigh.
Yes.
Yes you are.
My phone buzzed yet again.
Am I though?
I stared at the screen.
Unfortunately…
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Ugh… I was just about to continue my run too.
I’d honestly be less pissed off if she had just waited like ten minutes to message me.
Probably would have killed fatty and skinny and been on my way to an actual good boss fight.
Fine.
Give me one hour.
I could feel the elation through her reply.
I knew you loved me.
Sadly, as much of a pain in the ass as Kiyomi was, I did in fact love my little sister.
Don’t make me change my mind.
She sent back a short string of messages.
Too late.
See you soon!
Love you lots big bro.
I looked at the messages.
Yeah, yeah.
I know you do.
You’re still the biggest thorn in my side.
I figured I could do a quick boss fight and then get ready so I could head out.
Time to lock in.
Let’s do this.
One hour later.
I stood outside the mall questioning every decision that had led me to this moment.
People walked past.
Families.
Couples.
Groups of friends.
Normal people.
People who weren’t being emotionally blackmailed by their younger sisters.
Then again, maybe some were.
I’m not omniscient.
“You’re late.”
I turned.
Kiyomi stood a few feet away with her arms crossed.
I shrugged.
“I’m not late.”
“Emotionally, you are.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“It sounded cool.”
“It was cringe.”
“My whole life is cringe,” she said as she did some JoJo pose.
“That we can both agree on.”
I rubbed my temples.
This was a mistake.
A terrible mistake.
The kind of mistake that future historians would study and wonder how it could have possibly happened.
“What exactly are we doing?”
Kiyomi smiled.
A terrible smile.
The type of smile that usually resulted in collateral damage.
Then she pointed.
I followed her finger.
And immediately froze.
“Oh…” I said in the most exasperated tone I could physically muster.
Standing near the entrance was Miya.
She looked just as confused as I felt.
She wore a simple white blouse and dark skirt.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing attention-grabbing.
Which somehow made her stand out anyway.
She truly had that timeless and classic Japanese beauty look.
For a brief moment our eyes met.
I looked at Kiyomi.
“What did you do?”
Kiyomi’s smile somehow became even bigger.
“I have done nothing.”
I didn’t believe her.
Miya didn’t believe her.
Even the nearby pigeons probably didn’t believe her.
Probably.
Who am I to know?
I let out a loud sigh.
“What exactly is going on?”
Kiyomi grins.
“Miya-senpai wants new clothes.”
Miya nods.
“…My wardrobe is somewhat outdated.”
I blinked.
That was not the answer I had expected.
Kiyomi pointed dramatically.
“And because fashion is serious business, I recruited a second consultant.”
I immediately pointed at myself.
“I’m the second consultant?”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“Male perspective.”
“I have no perspective.”
“That’s what makes you objective.”
“That’s not how that works.”
Miya tilted her head.
“…I thought you agreed to help.”
I looked at her.
Then at Kiyomi.
Then back at her.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Everything started to make sense.
“You… you didn’t tell her, did you?”
Kiyomi grinned.
“Tell her what?”
She absolutely hadn’t.
“You guilt-tripped me into coming.”
“That sounds so negative.”
“Because it was.”
Miya looked between us.
A faint look of realization crossed her face.
“…I see.”
“Do you?” I asked.
“…Yes.”
She looked at Kiyomi.
“…You manipulated both of us.”
“Manipulated is such an ugly word.” Kiyomi placed her hands on her hips.
“I prefer strategic social engineering.”
“That’s somehow worse,” I said.
“…It really is.” Miya agreed.
For a brief moment, the two of us looked at each other.
Then simultaneously looked back at Kiyomi.
We were in perfect sync, resigned to our shared destiny.
Kiyomi looked entirely too pleased with herself.
“Great!”
She clapped her hands together.
“Now that everyone’s caught up, let’s go shopping.”
“Kiyomi…” I said with a hint of irritation in my voice.
It was taking all of my willpower not to explode at the moment.
“…Miya doesn’t need me for this.”
“Actually…” Miya looked away for a moment.
“…I wouldn’t mind a second opinion.”
I paused.
That was unexpected.
“See?” Kiyomi said with an arrogant smile adorning her face.
I shook my head in utter disbelief.
“I hate everything.”
“Love you too, Onni-chan.”
And just like that, I somehow found myself walking into the mall.
Against my better judgment.
A recurring theme in my life in the past few weeks.
We walked into a clothing boutique and Kiyomi instantly got to work.
I sighed.
“This is ridiculous.”
“It is not.”
“It absolutely is.”
Kiyomi ignored me.
Naturally.
She was currently moving through the clothing store like a military commander inspecting their troops for battle.
Clothes had somehow started appearing in her arms.
A lot of clothes.
Far too many clothes.
At this point I wasn’t entirely convinced that she didn’t work here.
Even though I knew for a fact that she was unemployed.
Twenty minutes later.
I found myself sitting outside a dressing room.
Against my will.
But what else is new?
“Male perspective.” I still couldn’t believe that was apparently my job now.
The curtain slid open.
Miya stepped out.
Black blouse.
Red skirt that went just above her knees.
Simple.
Clean.
More elegant than one would expect.
She looked at us expectantly.
“…Well?”
I glanced at the outfit.
Then the glance turned into a fixed stare.
I briefly caught a glimpse of her eyes before I looked away in a hurry.
She looked insanely hot.
It was hard not to stare and give off creeper vibes.
I finally managed to verbalize some thoughts once my blood flow returned to normal.
“It’s nice.”
Miya frowned.
“…That’s not a rating.”
Kiyomi nodded.
“That is indeed not a rating.”
I sighed.
“I don’t know.”
Kiyomi snapped her fingers.
“Rating system.”
“No.”
“Rating system.”
“No.”
“Rating system.”
Five minutes later.
There was a rating system.
I hated everything.
This is what my life was coming to.
“Eight.”
Miya immediately nodded.
“…Why?”
I opened my mouth.
Then paused.
Then opened it again to attempt to verbalize my thoughts.
“Because it suits you.”
Miya blinked.
Kiyomi froze.
I immediately regretted answering.
Miya tilted her head.
“…It suits me?”
“Yeah.”
I pointed awkwardly.
“You look comfortable. Confident. It’s… you.”
The words sounded increasingly stupid the longer they left my mouth.
Miya looked thoughtful.
Kiyomi immediately typed something into her phone.
“What are you doing, Kiyomi?” This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“Recording data.”
“There is no data to record.”
“There is now.”
The curtain closed.
A few minutes later it opened again.
This time Miya stepped out wearing something considerably more fashionable.
The kind of outfit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
It was a light blue blouse with a long dark skirt.
It seemed the perfect balance between feminine and professional.
I can’t believe those thoughts actually entered my head.
Maybe I have what it takes to be a fashion critic?
New career path unlocked?
Nah.
Kiyomi gasped.
I stared.
Miya looked down at herself.
“…Rating?”
“Nine.” The only reason it wasn’t a ten was because I felt it was a bit too formal for everyday Miya.
She looked fantastic in it though, hence the near perfect score.
She tilted her head.
“…Higher than the last one?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“…Why?”
I thought for a moment.
Then shrugged.
“It stands out more.”
Miya looked at the mirror.
“…And that’s good?”
“Yup. Usually. Looks like something you could wear casually or for a job.”
She nodded seriously.
Like she’d just learned a valuable life lesson.
Kiyomi immediately pointed at me.
“Write that down.”
“I’m not writing that down.”
“You’re hopeless, big bro. I’m writing that down.”
The rating system had somehow become a real thing.
I wasn’t entirely sure how.
Or when.
Or why.
I may have wiped such an unpleasant memory from my brain’s storage system even though it happened within the last hour.
All I knew was that Kiyomi was keeping track of the scores in her phone and Miya had started taking them far more seriously than any reasonable person should.
“Eight.”
“…What prevented it from being a nine?”
I stared at her.
“Seriously?”
“…Yes.”
“It wasn’t graded on a rubric.”
She frowned.
So she can show emotions.
“…It should be.”
“Why?”
“…So the criteria is consistent.”
I looked at Kiyomi.
Kiyomi looked at me.
Then we both looked back at Miya.
“You’ve put way more thought into this than I have,” said Kiyomi.
Miya considered that.
“…That’s possible.”
“It’s definitely possible.”
Thirty minutes and many outfits later…
The next outfit somehow started an argument.
It was a lavender sundress with a ribbon tied around her waist.
She looked beautiful, but it felt a little too “not Miya.” Almost like she’s playing dress-up.
I do want to emphasize that she did look fantastic in this sundress.
Then again, this girl could be wearing a garbage bag and probably pull that off.
I say this in full confidence with my lengthy expertise of less than one hour as a fashion critic.
“Seven.”
Miya frowned.
“…A seven?”
“A respectable seven.”
“…There is no such thing as a respectable seven.”
“There absolutely is.”
“…No.”
“Yes.”
“…No.”
Kiyomi raised her phone and shoved it into my face.
“These are the current rankings.”
“Why are there rankings?”
“There are always rankings. This outfit is currently in fourth place.”
“There shouldn’t be a fourth place.”
“There is now.”
Miya stepped closer.
“…What made this one worse?”
“It wasn’t worse.”
“…You gave it a lower score.”
“Because…”
I pointed vaguely.
“The previous one felt more…”
I searched for the word.
“…Memorable.”
Miya considered this.
Then nodded.
“…I see.”
“No you don’t.”
“…I think I do.”
“Then explain it.”
She paused.
“…I cannot.”
I laughed.
“Exactly.”
A few outfits later, Miya stepped out wearing a dark green cardigan over a simple white top.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing dramatic.
Just comfortable.
Once again, she looked absolutely fantastic in the outfit.
I guess this whole shopping excursion wasn’t a complete waste of time.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Then frowned.
Then adjusted the sleeve.
Then frowned again.
Then adjusted it back.
I cleared my throat.
“Miya…”
She looked toward me.
“…What?”
“You’ve been standing there for three minutes.”
“…I’m thinking.”
“I noticed.”
She looked back at the mirror.
Still thinking.
Still analyzing.
Still trying to optimize.
Finally, I stood up from the bench.
“You know you’re allowed to just like something. Or not like it.”
She blinked.
“…What?”
“You keep treating this like a math problem.”
“…It isn’t?”
“No.”
She looked at the mirror again.
Then back at me.
“…How do you know if it’s right?”
I stared at her.
For a moment, I wasn’t sure how to answer.
Then I shrugged.
“You don’t.”
Her eyebrows furrowed.
“…You don’t?”
“No.”
“…Then how do people choose?”
“They just do.”
“…That seems inefficient.”
I laughed.
Despite myself.
“Most people don’t optimize their outfits like they’re preparing for a final exam.”
Miya looked genuinely unconvinced.
For a few moments neither of us spoke.
Then she looked back toward the mirror.
Quietly.
Almost absentmindedly.
“…What if I choose wrong?”
The question caught me off guard.
Because for the first time all afternoon… it didn’t sound like she was talking about clothes.
I leaned back against the bench.
“Then you choose something else next time.”
She shook her head.
“…It’s not that simple.”
I looked at her.
Actually looked at her.
And suddenly something clicked.
Throughout the entire time I’d known Miya, I’d never seen her do anything halfway.
Basketball.
School.
Practice.
Everything she did was calculated.
Deliberate.
Controlled.
“Miya…”
She looked over.
“…You really hate being wrong, don’t you?”
For the first time all afternoon… she hesitated.
Just a little.
Then she looked away.
“…Maybe.”
That was the closest thing to a confession I was probably ever going to get.
I smiled.
“A little?”
“…A moderate amount.”
I laughed.
She sighed.
Then reluctantly smiled.
“…A significant amount.”
“There it is.”
She looked back at the mirror.
At the outfit.
At herself.
Then quietly spoke.
It was almost difficult to hear with all the women around us shopping and trying out clothes.
“…I’ve never liked failing.”
There wasn’t any drama in her voice.
No sadness.
No self-pity.
Just honesty.
The kind that only showed up when someone forgot to hide it.
When it accidentally slips out.
“I noticed.”
She glanced at me.
“…Was it that obvious?”
“You get upset when you get a ninety-eight.”
“…That’s because I missed two points.”
“Normal people don’t say things like that.”
She thought for a moment.
Then she gave a small laugh.
“…That’s fair.”
She looked at me, staring into my eyes.
“…What about you?”
“What about me?”
“…What are you afraid of getting wrong?”
I thought about it for a second.
What did I fear?
Other than Kiyomi that is.
What did I fear getting wrong?
It was an interesting question.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally spoke.
“The future.”
Miya’s eyes widened.
For a little while neither of us spoke.
Then she looked back toward the mirror again.
Still wearing the same outfit.
Still thinking.
Still analyzing.
And then, finally…
She smiled.
A small smile.
But a real one.
“…I like this one.”
For the first time since we’d entered the mall… there wasn’t a follow-up question.
No request for confirmation.
No search for the correct answer.
Just a simple statement.
“I like this one.”
That felt more important than any rating I’d given all day.
Several reveals later… another outfit.
Another rating.
At some point I stopped questioning how this became my life.
I resigned myself to enjoying the eye candy.
Gotta think positive thoughts.
The curtain opened.
Miya stepped out wearing a light sweater and jeans.
Simple.
Casual.
Comfortable.
The moment she appeared…
Something felt different.
Not because it was flashy.
Because it wasn’t.
Miya looked at her reflection.
Then smiled.
A small smile.
But a real one.
“…I like this one too.”
The joking stopped.
Just for a moment.
Because suddenly this wasn’t about ratings anymore.
It was about her.
Kiyomi noticed it too.
I could tell by the fact she wasn’t saying anything out of pocket to Miya.
“You look happy,” I blurted out.
Miya nodded.
“…I am.”
She looked back toward the mirror.
“…I’ve never really thought about clothes before.”
Kiyomi blinked.
“Seriously?”
Miya nodded.
“…Most of what I own is practical. For basketball and school.”
She shrugged.
“…I never thought much beyond that.”
For somebody who always seemed so composed… she sounded strangely uncertain.
Like this was unfamiliar territory.
Like she’d spent years learning how to improve everything except herself.
At least in this one particular aspect.
I guess I could relate.
Miya glanced toward me.
“…Rating?”
I smiled at her.
“Perfect ten.”
Silence.
Kiyomi froze.
Miya froze.
I froze.
Then Kiyomi slowly turned toward me.
“Interesting, big brother.”
“No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was.”
Meanwhile Miya quietly looked away.
A faint blush appeared on her cheeks.
And suddenly I had a feeling this chapter was about to become significantly more complicated.
Damnit, is Kiyomi’s rom-com bs starting to worm its way into my thought patterns?
I shuddered at the thought.
The girls went up to the cash register to pay.
I waited for them outside since I didn’t want to spend any more time than I had to in that boutique.
Felt I had to do something manly later to wash away all that girly stuff I just did.
Like I had to go hunting with my bare hands or watch several 80’s American action movies in a row.
Miya walked out of the boutique by herself and found me outside on my phone.
I was messaging Tadashi and of course he was getting a kick out of everything that was going on right now.
Miya cleared her throat in the cutest yet somehow also coolest possible fashion.
“…Kiyomi’s going to the restroom.” She paused for a moment in characteristic Miya fashion.
“…She said she would meet us at the food court.”
I nodded.
“Think she’ll survive on her own?”
“…I have my doubts.”
I laughed.
It was exceedingly rare for Miya to say something unserious.
For the first time all afternoon, things were peaceful.
All in all, today hadn’t been so bad thus far.
As much as I want to complain about going clothes shopping, because let’s be real no man wants to do that, I’d had a nice time out with the girls so far.
Even Kiyomi had been tamer than usual.
And that’s saying something.
And soon we’d be chowing down on some yummy food.
Things were looking up.
Then I heard a familiar voice.
The universe hasn’t been pulling any punches lately.
“Kaito?”
I froze.
Slowly, I turned around.
“Oh no,” I thought.
I didn’t dare verbalize my thoughts.
For I hold my life at a premium.
Standing a few feet away were Hikari and Akane.
Hikari blinked.
Akane smiled.
Neither reaction filled me with confidence.
Neither of them looked particularly happy to see me.
Which was concerning.
Because, as far as I knew, I hadn’t done anything wrong.
Hikari looked at me.
Then at the shopping bags.
Then back at me.
“Kaito…”
The fact she used my name instead of idiot was somehow more threatening.
“Hi, Hikari.”
“What are you doing?”
“Shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“Yes.”
“Shopping?”
“Why do you keep repeating it?”
“Because I’m trying to figure out why you’re out shopping with a girl….”
Akane smiled.
“Oh, let him answer~”
“Thank you,” I replied to Akane with a smile.
“He’s digging his own grave~”
“Never mind.”
Miya looked between us.
Clearly confused.
“…We were buying clothes.”
Hikari immediately turned toward her.
The glare she was giving would have killed lesser mortals.
Thankfully Miya was top tier.
“You were buying clothes?”
“…Yes.”
“With him.”
“…Yes.”
“Why?”
Miya blinked.
“…Because he was helping.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
I closed my eyes.
Because I already knew exactly where this was going.
An early grave.
Akane looked at me.
“Kaito~”
“No.”
“Kaito..”
“No.”
“Kaito…”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard the question~”
“I know the question.”
“Then answer it~”
“There is no good answer.”
“Is that so? Interesting~”
“It’s really not.”
Miya tilted her head.
“…Kiyomi asked him to come with me.”
I immediately started flailing my hands.
“See?”
Hikari narrowed her eyes.
“Why?”
“Because Kiyomi is evil,” I instantly replied.
“Sounds about right.”
“THANK YOU.”
For one beautiful moment, I thought I had survived.
Then Miya spoke again.
“…Kaito’s opinions on my outfits were very helpful.”
And just like that…
Everything got worse.
Akane’s smile widened.
Hikari’s eye twitched.
I considered jumping off the second floor in order to escape this conversation.
“Helpful?” Hikari repeated.
Her angry vein somehow even more pissed than usual.
“…Yes.” Miya nodded.
“How?”
Miya answered immediately.
“…He rated my outfits.”
The silence was so complete I could hear my heartbeat.
Akane slowly turned toward me.
“He rated them~?”
“It wasn’t like that…” I tried to defend myself and failed miserably.
“What was it like~?”
“There was a system.”
“You created a system~?”
“Under duress. Technically, it was Kiyomi’s…”
“What kind of system~?”
I shut up immediately.
Miya nodded.
“…It was surprisingly effective.”
“MIYA!” I exclaimed.
“…What?”
“Please stop helping.”
“…I’m explaining.”
“You’re killing me.”
Akane was now openly enjoying herself.
“What was your highest rating~?”
Miya thought for a moment.
“…A ten.”
I immediately looked away.
Because there was absolutely no correct direction to look.
Hikari stared at me.
“A ten?”
“It sounds worse than it is,” I responded impotently.
“It sounds exactly like it sounds.”
“It really doesn’t. I can explain…”
Miya looked thoughtful.
“…He said it suited me.”
I covered my face.
“Oh my god…”
“…He said it felt the most like me. That it was perfect.”
I was no longer alive.
This was merely my spirit witnessing the destruction of my reputation.
Akane had completely given up pretending not to laugh.
Hikari looked like she wanted a full written report before my inevitable execution.
Miya finally noticed everyone’s expressions.
Then she looked at me.
Then at Akane.
Then at Hikari.
Then back at me.
“…Oh.”
That was the most terrifying thing she’d said all day.
“You understand now?” I asked.
“…A little.”
“Please don’t.”
Akane wiped a tear from her eye.
“Hikari…”
“What?”
“I think we found out where Kaito disappeared to today~”
“I noticed.”
“I don’t like it~”
“I noticed that too.”
“Ladies…” I tried to explain myself.
Neither of them looked at me.
Which somehow felt even worse.
Because for the first time all afternoon…
I wasn’t the one being judged.
I had already been convicted.
That’s what happens when your interrogation goes as poorly as mine just did.
Hikari and Akane continued to stare at me like they had just drawn all five pieces of Exodia and I was about to get obliterated.
At this point I welcomed a swift death.
Ten minutes later we were back in the familiar setting of the boutique.
Hikari looked angrier than usual, and that’s saying something.
“Move!”
I blinked.
“What?”
Hikari pointed.
“Move, Idiot.”
“Hikari, I don’t know what…”
“You’re in the way!”
Before I could respond, she grabbed my shoulder and physically moved me out of the group.
“Hey!”
Akane smiled.
“I think you’ve lost voting privileges, Kaito~”
“I didn’t know there was voting.”
“There isn’t~”
“Then how did I lose it?”
“Through poor decision making~”
“I haven’t done anything!”
Three girls stared at me.
I decided not to argue.
Mostly because I valued my life.
The next thirty minutes were surreal.
Somehow, the entire situation had transformed.
Instead of interrogating me… Hikari and Akane were now focused entirely on Miya.
And for the first time all afternoon, Miya looked slightly overwhelmed.
“Try this one~” Akane said.
“What about this?” Hikari asked.
Miya accepted both outfits.
Then looked toward me.
I immediately pointed at the others.
“Nope.”
Miya looked puzzled.
“…What?”
“You have a support team now.”
“…I see.”
“You’re their problem.”
Miya nodded.
“…Understood.”
Then she disappeared back into the dressing room.
A few minutes later she emerged wearing a casual summer outfit.
Light blouse.
Dark skirt.
Simple.
Comfortable.
The girls immediately started discussing it.
“The color works~” said Akane.
“The shoes don’t,” responded Hikari.
“…I like the shoes,” replied Miya in an uncharacteristically timid fashion.
“The shoes are fine~” Akane said with a reassuring smile.
“The shoes are the problem,” Hikari stated bluntly as she shook her head.
Meanwhile I stood off to the side.
Completely ignored.
It was wonderful.
Then Miya looked at me.
“…Kaito.”
“No questions.”
“…I haven’t asked anything yet.”
“The answer is still no.”
“…What do you think?”
Damn it.
Three pairs of eyes immediately turned toward me.
I looked at the outfit, begrudgingly.
“It’s good.”
Akane crossed her arms.
“Expand~”
“What?”
“Expand on that~”
“Why?”
“Because that’s not an answer~”
“It absolutely is.”
“It absolutely isn’t~”
I sighed.
Then looked at Miya again.
“I think…”
I paused.
Searching for the words.
The right combination that wouldn’t lead to my doom.
I know.
Tall ask.
“I think it looks natural.”
The room got quiet.
Miya blinked.
“…Natural?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged.
“It looks like something you’d actually wear. It’s definitely you.”
Miya looked down at the outfit.
Then toward the mirror.
Then back at me.
For some reason…
That answer seemed to matter more to her than any of the ratings.
A little later she emerged in another outfit.
This one was objectively more fashionable.
She was wearing an off-shoulder top and a sleek long skirt with a slit as well as some high heels.
It honestly looked like the kind of outfit you would go clubbing in.
I couldn’t in my wildest fantasy picture Miya out at a nightclub.
Then again, I couldn’t picture myself in one either.
The girls immediately approved.
Akane nodded and clasped her hands.
Hikari nodded and gave a slight thumbs up.
Even I had to admit it looked good by flashing a quick smile.
Even though she looked fantastic in it, I could also admit to myself that it wasn’t really for her.
Miya looked at herself in the mirror.
Then frowned.
“…I don’t like it.”
The room went quiet.
Akane tilted her head.
“Why~?”
Miya stared at her reflection.
For a few moments she didn’t answer.
Then finally…
“…It feels like someone else.”
Nobody spoke.
Because suddenly…
This wasn’t about clothes anymore.
It was about identity.
About who she was.
And who she wasn’t.
I had been right on the money with my first impression.
Damn, maybe I should become a fashion critic.
I clearly have a natural talent.
A few minutes later she emerged again.
This time wearing a simple cream-colored sweater and dark jeans.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing expensive looking.
Just… Miya.
The room immediately went quiet.
Akane smiled first.
Then Hikari.
Even before anyone said anything… I think we all knew.
Miya looked at herself in the mirror.
Then looked back at us.
“…What do you think?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Because honestly?
There wasn’t much left to say.
Then Akane smiled.
“That’s the one~”
Hikari nodded.
“Definitely.”
Miya looked toward me.
For some reason… that felt dangerous.
“…What about you, Kaito?”
I should have lied.
A smarter man would have lied.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t a smarter man.
I looked at her.
Then at the outfit.
Then back at her.
“Honestly?”
Miya nodded.
“…Yeah.”
I shrugged.
“That’s my favorite.”
Silence.
Immediate silence.
The kind of silence that arrives right before disaster.
I realized my mistake exactly one second too late.
Akane slowly turned toward me.
Hikari slowly turned toward me.
Miya froze.
I closed my eyes.
“Never mind….”
“Too late~” Akane said.
“Way too late,” Hikari agreed.
Miya immediately looked away.
A faint blush appeared on her face.
And just like that…
My trial resumed.
And here I was thinking I had already been convicted.
Rookie mistake.
Girls can always do a retrial, even for the same crimes.
Double jeopardy doesn’t exist for them.
I lost track of time.
It seemed to both slow to a crawl and speed up in random intervals.
Time is relative after all.
At least according to Einstein and he was a pretty smart dude.
All I know is I spent way more time inside that clothing boutique than I had bargained for.
The gremlin had ditched us for some vague reason.
I was fairly certain she was the reason Hikari and Akane had just “suddenly” showed up but I couldn’t prove it.
As I walked home, I thought about everything that had happened on this shopping trip.
I felt like I had learned more about Miya today than in the last several weeks combined.
I’d always thought Miya had everything figured out.
Basketball.
School.
Life.
The meaning of existence.
Watching her today made me realize how wrong that was.
She wasn’t fearless.
She just hated making mistakes more than anybody I’d ever met.
Maybe that’s why she worked so hard.
Maybe that’s why she always seemed so composed.
And maybe…
For the first time all day.
For the first time in what’s probably been a long while…
She stopped worrying about being perfect.
Announcement on Older Chapters Will also split older chapters in future.
TY to all my readers!