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Osomatsu hated shopping for clothes. Hated it. So much that in his youth he’d expended every trick in his sizable reportoire to avoid being dragged along, which wasn’t difficult considering that their mother only needed one of them to get the right fit for all six.
Being a member of six identical siblings meant that clothes came in uniform bulk, for the most part. Osomatsu was fine by that. One less thing to think about, one less thing to worry about.
But somehow, today, here he stood: at the entrance to the Akatsuka Mall, armed with a modest sum of cash and the directive to obtain suitable clothing for job interviews for him and his brothers. Which he might have been okay with, except his mother put the money in the care of Choromatsu, with explicit instructions not to hand any to Osomatsu.
It all started when they’d all been hanging out in the living room earlier that day. Todomatsu was trying to explain the rules of checkers to an overly-enthused Jyushimatsu, Ichimatsu was playing with a cat on the couch, Choromatsu was pretending to read a book while secretly ogling an idol photobook, Karamatsu was pulling faces in a mirror that he probably thought looked dashing, and Osomatsu was reading manga. Business as usual.
But then, they heard their mother’s voice from the hallway: “Oh, NEETs, my sweet little NEETs,” she called.
They all looked at each other. Then they looked at the door. They all knew what that tone meant: she was going to ask them to do something responsible. There were only seconds to escape. Now, normally Osomatsu was at the head of the pack when it came to dodging responsibility; ‘plausible deniability’ was practically his middle name. But today...the instant Matsuyo’s voice rang out, and before Osomatsu could begin to get up, the brothers sprang into action.
Karamatsu bolted towards the roof, Ichimatsu put a book over his face and pretended to sleep. Jyushimatsu leapt out the window. Todomatsu whipped out his phone, and pretended to be having a conversation on it.
And then, as the door slid open, he looked over at Osomatsu and smirked. The little rat! Shit, they’d all known something, hadn’t they? They’d been prepared for this!
“Ah, Osomatsu and Choromatsu, you’re not busy,” said their mother, in a tone that brooked no argument.
Choromatsu didn’t seem fazed. This happened to him a lot. But he, Osomatsu? Never!
“I need you to run an errand,” their mother said.
So here they were. At the mall.
“This is stupid,” complained Osomatsu. “She could have at least sent Todomatsu. Or Karamatsu. They love this crap.”
“Yes, well, she sent you, so we’re both just going to have to deal with it,” said Choromatsu.
“Rude, Chorofappski.”
Choromatsu ignored him. “Our first stop is the tailor shop,” he said, glancing at a notebook he was holding. Holy shit, did he have an itinerary? Wait a second...
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. That place? That place is expensive as hell! No way!”
“We have enough to cover it.”
“Yeah, but come on! If we buy cheap shit somewhere else, we can pocket the rest!”
“No. Mother entrusted me with this money, and we’re going to use it responsibly,” said Choromatsu smugly.
“C’mon,” Osomatsu wheedled. “Think about how many race tickets we could buy. Or how many dirty maganizes...”
Choromatsu’s facade cracked, but didn’t crumble. “We need to be responsible...” he said, but it didn’t sound as confident as he had a moment ago. Ha. He would break eventually. Osomatsu knew him well; Choromatsu lived to be talked out of things. Better play along for now...
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Fine. Whatever, let’s go.”
The tailor shop was, frankly, intimidating. The Matsuno brothers stood by the window, in which loomed a wall of impeccably-dressed mannequins, staring down as if judging them for their many crimes against fashion. Inside, equally well-dressed employees navigated the tastefully decorated landscape of expensive clothing—understated dresses and racks upon racks of functionally indistinguishable suits with price tags that would make any NEET weep.
All those fancy-ass morons could suck it, Osomatsu thought spitefully, slouching with his hands in his hoodie pockets, cuffs of his holey jeans dragging on the floor.
Choromatsu, on the other hand, hovered behind Osomatsu like a nervous hornet, looking like he’d like nothing more than to make a break for it.
“L-l-let’s go,” he said.
Osomatsu didn’t say anything. Yes, he was playing this game today.
“C’mon,” Choromatsu said, pushing him lightly.
“Eh? Go where?” said Osomatsu.
“Inside!”
“Inside where, Chorofappski? You’re gonna need to be more specific.”
“Osomatsu-niisan...” Oho, now he was pleading.
Osomatsu draped an arm over his little brother’s shoulder. “You want to go into that store, Choromatsu?”
Choromatsu nodded pathetically.
“Is that what you want? You really want to go in there?” Osomatsu pressed.
“We have to...”
“Oh, Choromatsu, Choromatsu, Choromatsu.” Osomatsu sighed theatrically, shaking his head. “Don’t you think you’re setting your sights too high? No matter how you look at it, that shop is way too high class! People like you and me don’t belong in places like that, right? It’s out of our league! It’d be like if one of us went up to a really hot lady and asked her out, right off the bat! It just isn’t done.”
“But...” said Choromatsu.
“Hey, you have to work yourself up to these things. You just can’t jump from zero to a hundred in one go, you know?”
“Yeah, but...”
“Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna go someplace that’s more our level. Someplace for regular folk, like us. Right? There’s all kinds of shops around here.”
“Right...”
Osomatsu patted his brother on the shoulder comfortingly as he led him away. “And hell, would it be a crime if we had some cash left over, after all our hard work?”
“I guess...”
By the time they reached the next likely-looking venue, Choromatsu had recovered to his usual snooty self.
“Hey, check it out, they have a buy-one-get-one!” said Osomatsu.
Choromatsu sniffed. “Those are poor-quality goods.”
God, who even cared. “It’s just gotta look good, right?”
“It does not ‘just have to look good’. The clothing you wear is an reflection of your inner self! You have to make a good impression!”
“Yeah, yeah...we can make a good impression with clothes that don’t take more yen out of our pocket than whatever shitty job it lands us puts back in.” Not that he was intending to get a job anytime soon. “C’mon, Fappymatsu! Start small! There’s nowhere to go but up.”
“...Fine,” grumbled Choromatsu. “We can do it as a trial run.” But he looked a little relieved. Score one for Osomatsu.
...Or so he thought, but then he had to be the ones to try on the half-dozen outfits Choromatsu accumulated on their trip around the store.
“What? No way! You do it,” he’d complained when they reached the change rooms.
“It has to be you,” said Choromatsu. “I have to measure it to make sure it fits.”
“Are you serious? Measuring?”
“I’m very serious,” said Choromatsu, seriously, as he shoved Osomatsu into a large change room. “Now get undressed.”
“Uh, did you have come in too?”
“What? It’s more efficient this way.” Choromatsu folded his arms.
Shit. He wasn’t going to budge, was he. “...Turn around.”
“Pardon?”
“Turn around! I’m not just gonna strip in front of you! That’s weird!”
Choromatsu shook his head in exasperation. “I see you naked all the time. We live together. I don’t see why this is a big deal.”
“Because it’s awkward! Turn around!”
“Fine, fine. I swear...” Chosomatsu sighed, turning around.
Osomatsu was sorely tempted to put him in a headlock from behind, but for once his common sense prevailed; it might be faster to just get this over with. Shucking off his comfortable clothes, he started getting re-dressed in the first outfit: dress pants, button-up shirt, jacket, tie...
“Are you done?” said Choromatsu, tapping his fingers against his arm.
“Yeah, yeah, just...this stupid thing...” growled Osomatsu, grappling with the tie.
Choromatsu turned. “Oh. Haha, you don’t know how to tie that? Really?”
“Shut up,” said Osomatsu. “Mom usually does it.”
His brother smirked. “Really?” he said, voice dripping condescension.
Oh hell no. Osomatsu was calling that bluff. “Yeah. So how about you take a crack at it, smart guy?”
“...Er.” Choromatsu’s face froze, and then he stepped up. “O-of course. Um, you go like this...” He fiddled with the tie for a moment, then moved back. “There.”
Osomatsu turned to examine his brother’s handiwork in the change room mirror. “Pfffhahaha! Fappymatsu, this looks like shit! Where’d you learn to tie knots, preschool?”
Flushing crimson, Choromatsu sputtered, “I just—it’s harder on another person—I could do it if—“
“Yeah, yeah,” Osomatsu interrupted. “So the tie’s a bust, whatever. Get to measuring, or whatever the hell you were gonna do.”
Choromatsu straightened up. “Tuck that shirt in, first. And button the jacket!”
“Whaaat? But it’s boiling in here.”
“We’re not going to know if it fits properly unless you do.”
“Fine,” grumbled Osomatsu, cramming the white shirt under the waist of the pants, and doing up the buttons.
“That’s the wrong hole,” Choromatsu said.
“Whatever!”
“And your collar’s crooked.”
“God, would you just shut up already?”
Choromatsu took something out of his pocket and shook it out. It was an honest-to-god measuring tape. “Okay, hold your arms out. Higher,” he said, when Osomatsu half-halfheartedly complied. Then he started measuring. He measured the width across Osomatsu’s shoulders. He measured his legs. He measured the distance around his waist. He measured the length of his arms, the circumference of his arms, the distance around his neck...
“Is this really necessary?” said Osomatsu, eventually. His arms were getting tired.
“Absolutely,” said Choromatsu, too quickly.
Yeah, he was full of shit. But he probably wouldn’t shut up for a good five minutes if Osomatsu called him on it right now. He fidgeted. “Quit measuring my ass,” he complained, and he could have sworn he heard a giggle from outside.
“I need the numbers,” Choromatsu huffed.
Now logically, here, Osomatsu knew he should just keep still and suffer through Choromatsu’s fussing, maybe heckle him a little to speed it up. But opportunity was knocking, and it was making him an offer he couldn’t refuse. “Choro-chan, cut it out,” he whined exaggeratedly. “You’re so mean.”
Oh, yeah. Definitely giggles, and a quiet, ‘shh!’ Choromatsu didn’t seem to notice. “Stop fidgeting,” he said, checking a number on the measuring tape.
“No, stop it, that tickles!”
“I’m not even touching y—“
There was a knock on the door. “S-sirs? Is everything all right in there?” said a nervous male voice.
Choromatsu, caught off-guard, looked to his brother, who flashed him his biggest shit-eating grin.
“Choro-chaaaan, say something,” he simpered, channeling Todomatsu. “They think you’re doing something naughty.”
Choromatsu turned bright red. “What—but you—I’m not—“
Osomatsu winked at him, slowly and deliberately undoing buttons on the white shirt. “Don’t come in yet, we’re not ready,” he said, addressing the door.
“Stop that,” hissed Choromatsu desperately.
“Sirs, I’m going to have to open the door,” said the nervous voice from outside, after a hurried conference with several other whispered voices.
“Choro-chan, don’t, they’ll see,” Osomatsu said, continuing to undo buttons. Just as expected, Choromatsu lunged forward to try and pry his hands away, as the sound of a key fumbling in the lock came from outside.
And so it was that the door flew open on the scene of Choromatsu pawing helplessly at the front of Osomatsu’s half-done up shirt, Osomatsu having thrown his hands up innocently the instant before the door opened.
A pimply-faced kid with a beet red face stood in the door, trying to look stern, hand still on the handle, and two girls’ faces were peering around the doorframe with expressions of extreme interest. At the sight of Choromatsu manhandling a partially-undressed Osomatsu, they let out a suppressed squeal of glee.
Choromatsu let go of Osomatsu so fast it was as if he was burned, with an expression that suggested if the pits of hell were to open beneath his feet, he would be swallowed by them gladly.
“I-I-I’m s-sorry,” stammered the kid, “I’m g-g-going to have to ask you t-to leave.”
Three minutes later, they were escorted out the door. Choromatsu still looked like he wanted to die, and Osomatsu was grinning from ear to ear.
“Chin up, Choroma-cchi,” said Osomatsu, slinging his arm around his brother’s shoulders, “They only banned us from coming in for a week.”
“I—you—I can’t believe,” Choromatsu sputtered.
“Better luck next time, right? Hey, wanna catch some pachinko on the way home?”
Osomatsu was sure he’d destroyed Choromatsu’s resolve for the day. How could he go on, after all that? But then, Choromatsu turned to him with a vengeful gleam in his eyes.
“Oh, no,” he said. “There’s plenty of shops we still haven’t tried. Look over there, there’s one that’s perfect for you.” He pointed. Osomatsu looked. It was a children’s clothing store.
“Oi, hey, you’re not serious, are you?” said Osomatsu, as Choromatsu gamely began dragging him towards it. “Choromatsu? Choromatsu!”
He didn’t stop.
...In the end, they didn’t get suits that day. But they did get twelve lifelong bans at various shops at the mall.
“Totty’s gonna kill us,” said Osomatsu, stretching his arms over his head as they waited for the train home.
“That seems likely,” agreed Choromatsu. He was sporting a black eye from where a security guy punched him in the face. Osomatsu’s knuckles bore scrapes from returning the favor.
“Oh well. I never liked the damn place anyway.”
“Yeah.”
Despite everything, Osomatsu felt oddly at peace. There was something about wrecking havoc that just felt so....satisfying. He looked over at Choromatsu. Choromatsu, who he’d spent the afternoon feuding with, their battle escalating wildly until it rose to encompass entire shops, drawing in the hapless staff members. But that was just the way they rolled. They fought, they feuded, and at the end of it all, they forgave.
And the next day they did it all again.
“Better luck next time, huh, Chorofappski?” said Osomatsu, grinning lazily.
Choromatsu gave him a dirty look. “Next time, I’m not bringing you.”
Feigning horror, Osomatsu peered back. “Eh? But we had so much fun.”
“Fun?! Are you crazy? What part about that was fun?!”
“Don’t gimme that, I saw you laughing when I sprayed that guy in the face with the fire extinguisher.”
“Stupid, immature, totally unacceptable...” muttered Choromatsu under his breath. Osomatsu elbowed him in the ribs and he rolled his eyes. “It was a stress reaction,” he said.
“Sure,” said Osomatsu with a grin.