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“So…how do I look?”
Night was falling, and Futaba was coming out of her closet. Not metaphorically; she’d done that a while ago, and in fact wouldn’t be in this situation right now if she hadn’t. She was physically exiting a literal closet in her room, and wearing quite the get-up as she did so.
Above her head, connected by a piece of wire reaching up from a headband, was a plastic golden halo. Below that, covering her eyes, were a pair of green, oval-shaped goggles, whose lenses were canted diagonally. Falling down in front of her torso, all the way to her legs, was a rubbery morass of bright purple tentacles, which was flanked by the metal-gray sleeves covering her arms. Sprouting from her back, there were a pair of wings, fashioned out of plain cardboard. Finally, her hands were covered by purple gloves, and her feet were covered by squarish gray boots.
“You look amazing, Futaba-chan!”
It was Futaba’s girlfriend, Sumire, who spoke. She was also the mastermind of this whole shebang, having cajoled Futaba into not only wearing a Halloween costume, but wearing it out for some friendly trick-or-treating. Of course, Sumire was also wearing a costume, and it even kind of matched with her girlfriend’s.
The biggest similarity was the halo hanging above her hair, which made sense since the halos had come as a pair. The similarities faded as one’s view went downwards. They both had wings, but Sumire’s were, well, actual wings, with faux feathers and all, and not just cardboard cut into the vague shape of wings. A white dress covered most of her body. She wore knee-high boots, with fluff at their tops, and armbands of fluff around her elbows.
“Mwahaha! Of course I do!” The confidence in Futaba’s voice did not shake the bright-red blush from her cheeks.
“Exactly. You always look amazing.”
Futaba pressed her hand to her heart, through the mess of tentacles, and dramatically mimed falling over.
“Oof! Girlfriend used Compliment! It’s super-effective! Futaba fainted.”
Sumire’s eyes widened. “Oh no! How can I wake her up?”
Still lying on the ground, Futaba raised her hands and put them together, miming a kiss. Sumire giggled, and knelt down beside her, before pressing a smooch to her cheek. At this, Futaba rocketed back up to her feet, her back almost ram-rod straight.
“Futaba is back at full HP!”
“Are you ready for a quest, Futaba-chan?”
“Sure I am! As long as you’ll be my tank.”
Sumire cocked her head. “I thought tanks were supposed to be big and strong.”
“Pfeh. You’re a gymnast, you can be a dodge tank.”
“Sojirooo! Trick or treat!” cried Futaba, pushing open the door of Café Leblanc and stomping over to the counter.
Her father, who had not dressed up for the occasion, gave her one look and immediately furrowed his brow in confusion.
“Futaba, what on Earth are you supposed to be?”
“I’m a robot alien angel!”
Sojiro’s face contorted as he rapidly shifted through various emotions and their matching expressions in the space of a few seconds. Then, he just shook his head.
“Of course you are.” He turned around and began rummaging through some containers in the kitchen. “Let’s see what I’ve got for you…Ah! Here we go.”
He faced them again, holding out two bags of little chocolates, one in each hand. Futaba snatched one, clutching it to her chest, while Sumire bowed before gently accepting the other one.
“Thank you, Sakura-san!” said Sumire.
“How many times do I need to say you can call me Sojiro before you start doing it, kid?”
Before she could respond, there was a loud clattering of footsteps from the stairs. It was Akira and Goro, accompanied by Morgana sprinting ahead of them. All of them were wearing costumes.
Morgana’s was simple and store-bought, basically a cat-sized dog onesie. It even had a pair of big floppy ears on either side of its dog face, which went above Morgana’s real face.
Akira had apparently also gone the store-bought route, though at least his was combining two different store-bought costumes. Mostly, it was a wolf-like onesie, with brown fur and a pale oval across his chest. It came with furred and clawed paw-gloves, and a furry tail. Atop his head sat matching wolf-ears, and a set of bright red horns.
His boyfriend had went all-in on the devil side of things. Goro’s horns matched Akira’s exactly, and the small crop-top he was wearing was the exact same shade of red. A pair of loose reddish pants with an attached tail -- long, red, and pointed -- completed the costume of a rather skimpily-dressed devil.
“Ohmygod, is Mona a dog? ” Futaba squished his face vigorously as she asked.
“Stop it! And I only agreed to this because Joker promised me fatty tuna!”
“And because I told you Ann would like it.”
“ Joker! ”
The crew of costumed youths got some looks, and even a couple compliments, as they rode the trains over to their first stop.
“Sumi Sumi Sumi! Who are we seeing first?”
Futaba’s enthusiasm was, so far, triumphant over her anxiety over the crowd filling the train car. This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that Sumire, Akira, and Goro had surrounded her in a triangle formation.
“It’s a surprise, Futaba-chan!”
“C’mon, you can tell me! I can pretend to be surprised when we get there!”
Akira leaned in. “You don’t want Sumire’s hard work setting up all these surprises for you to go to waste, though, right?”
“Why’d you have to use Logic? You know that’s my weakness.”
Sumire cocked her head. “I thought it was Compliment that’s super-effective against you.”
“It can be both!”
The argument was forestalled by the train coming to a halt at the nearest station to their destination. The group disembarked and proceeded on the streets, with Futaba’s Triangle Guard maintaining formation, all the way to an apartment building. Here, Akira took the lead, guiding them to the correct apartment.
“Will you do the honors, Miss Robot Alien Angel?” he asked, bowing theatrically.
“Absolutely!”
Futaba stepped up the door, raised her fist, and thudded it on the door forcefully. They heard a swear from inside, and footsteps, before the door swung open. Standing in the doorway, wearing a long red coat with faux-golden buttons and trim, a bicorn hat bearing a Jolly Roger, and a fake twirly mustache, was Ryuji. He also had pirate-y pants and boots and a black t-shirt printed with the image of a ribcage. On one hand, he was wearing a glove textured like bones, and on the other, a hook.
“Trick or treat!” shouted Futaba, holding open a Café Leblanc to-go bag.
“Uh, here ya go,” said Ryuji, dropping a white tube into the bag.
Futaba squinted at it, and picked it out to look at.
“Seriously? Instant ramen?”
“I thought you liked that stuff!”
“It’s Halloween! I want candy!”
“I had to improvise, okay?”
Futaba shook her head. “Fine, I’ll take the ramen. But you owe me some real candy, buster.”
He sighed. “Alright, alright. Does anyone else want some ramen?”
After another train ride, and the conversion of the Triangle Guard to the Square Guard with the induction of Ryuji the skeleton pirate, they’d arrived at yet another apartment building. This one was larger and less worn-down than the other. This time, though, it was Ryuji who led them up to the specific apartment they were looking for.
Futaba walked up and knocked. The moment her hand made contact with the door, it was yanked open, and a pumpkin-shaped bowl full to the brim of candy was shoved in her face.
“Happy Halloween!” cried the bowl-shover.
Said bowl-shover happened to be Ann Takamaki wearing a short candy-themed dress, accented with a large red heart design on her chest. She was also wearing cat ears, with collections of (probably) plastic pieces of candy surrounding them. There was candy corn, liquorice, jawbreakers, and lollipops. Her feet bore red heels, and her hands bore white gloves. Tying it all up was the bow-carrying choker around her neck.
“Ann! Your costume is amazing!” cried Futaba.
“So is yours, Futaba-chan.”
Morgana chose that moment to jump up onto Futaba’s shoulder to join the conversation.
“How about mine, Lady Ann? Isn’t it wonderful?”
Ann cooed over the doggishly-dressed Morgana, while the being of ambiguous species preened at the attention.
“So, Takamaki, what exactly are you?” Goro asked.
Ann immediately stood up straight, grinning broadly.
“I’m so glad you asked, Goro-kun! Tonight, I’m Sweet Tone, the brand-new candy-themed idol!” She flashed a peace sign.
Goro sighed. “I regret asking.”
“Don’t be like that, Goro-kun! Let Sweet Tone cheer you up with some sugary delights!”
She threw a handful of candy at him. It bounced off his crop-top and landed on the ground. Before anyone else could try to pick them up, Morgana leapt down from Futaba’s shoulder to stand atop them all, arching his back.
“These are mine!”
“Can you even eat candy, Mona?” asked Ryuji.
Futaba cackled. “We’ll have to do some Science and find out!”
With Sweet Tone’s arrival, the guard had graduated all the way to the Pentagon Guard, and they were escorting their charge to the next stop. This one, in a shocking twist, actually wasn’t an apartment building. It was, instead, a school dormitory. It was also, apparently, Goro’s turn to take the lead on finding the exact room they were visiting.
When he found it, he stood aside and silently gestured for Futaba to knock. When she did, the door opened up to reveal Yusuke Kitagawa wearing what seemed to be his normal outfit, just full of holes and cuts all through-out.
“Trick or treat,” he said, calmly handing each of them a single paintbrush.
“Inari! I’m the one who says trick or treat!”
He blinked. “My apologies, Futaba. Let us try this again.”
He grabbed everyone’s paintbrushes, went back inside his dorm, and closed the door. Futaba looked around confusedly. Everyone else could only shrug, before Futaba knocked on the door again.
“Trick or treat, Inari!” cried Futaba when he opened the door.
“Happy Halloween,” he said, as he handed everyone their paintbrushes once again.
“Dude, Yusuke, what the eff happened to your clothes?” Ryuji asked.
Yusuke looked down at his clothes, and then looked back up. “This is my costume. I was inspired by a work of performance art by Yoko Ono, called Cut Out--”
“Wait, you cut up your clothes for this? How much did those things cost?”
“I do not remember. It may be a while before I can afford replacements.”
In unison, Futaba and the Pentagon Guard facepalmed.
Together with their new performance-artist member, the now-Hexagon Guard, Futaba rode the trains to their second-to-last stop for the night. In an honestly-kind-of-disappointing return to form, it was yet another apartment building. This one, though, was even larger than the other two, and covered in neat glass windows. Ann took the lead, and guided them through the somewhat-disconcertingly fancy hallways to reach their destination.
Futaba knocked, and the door opened to reveal Makoto and Haru. The former was wearing a lightly tattered police uniform, and an extensive bit of bluish-green body paint and make up to convey the image of a zombie cop. Haru, meanwhile, was wearing similar make up and paint, but her clothes were those of a bride, not a cop.
“Trick or treat!” shouted Futaba, holding out her bag.
“Happy Halloween, Futaba-chan! I love your costume,” replied Haru, dropping a three-pound bag full of mixed candies into Futaba’s arms.
Futaba fell down under its weight, taken by surprise and unable to carry it with her noodle arms.
“Futaba-chan! Are you okay?” fretted Sumire.
“Too…heavy…”
Sumire hoisted up the bag of candies from her girlfriend’s arms, taking it upon her strong shoulders. For half a moment, Futaba fantasized about being carried around like that bag of candy, before she cast the thought aside and stood up. She saw Haru handing similarly-sized bags of candy to everyone else.
“Damn, Haru! This is a whole load of candy!” shouted Ryuji.
She frowned and cocked her head. “I thought these bags were normally bought for Halloween.”
Akira coughed. “Normally you just buy one bag and hand out the individual candies from it, Haru.”
“Oh!”
“I suppose I shouldn’t have let Haru do the candy shopping all on her own,” said Makoto.
“Hey, it means more candy for us! And since you and Ann are the only ones who actually got candy, if you hadn’t gotten so much we’d probably all come away with pretty pathetic loot,” interjected Futaba.
“I suppose so.”
Now with its full membership, the Octagon Guard escorted Futaba the robot alien angel to their final destination, which was in fact the same place they had left from: Café Leblanc, where they were to spend the night. They watched horror movies on Akira’s old TV, while they gorged on candy and made fun of the special effects. Eventually, they all fell asleep on the attic floor, and they were woken up the next morning by Sojiro coming in to open up shop.
As they ate their complimentary breakfast, Futaba leaned her sleepy head on Sumire’s shoulder.
“Did you have a good Halloween, Futaba-chan?”
“Mmm…the best.”
Sumire bent her head to press a kiss into Futaba’s hair.
“Good.”