Chapter Text
Eichi couldn’t believe the gossip that he had overheard, nor the photographic evidence which had recently surfaced online. Curiosity piqued, he got to researching and plotting, clicking through tags and watching endless hours of videos as he lay in bed. As he absorbed the new information, an idea began to form.
During his next day off, he slowly and secretly made his way, unaccompanied, to the one and only destination that could serve his needs, purchased an entire outfit--coord, the shop girl had called it--and made one last call full of detailed instructions to the only person he could trust with such an escapade. He would make a date of it, and he was rather looking forward to it after his recent health struggles.
A few weeks later, Eichi and Keito found themselves at some dinky little business. Eichi had not been feeling well to begin with, but plans were plans and he would not let anything get in his way. Rather, he would pay the price later, just like always. They walked in, past the few staring customers, and into a back room with a simple table and chairs. Standing closest to them was Shu, clad in a black mesh dress with flocked velvet bats. The dress had a second layer beneath for modesty and was fluffy with petticoats. He wore his usual insufferably high collared shirt in burgundy, a matching bonnet and socks, and black oxford shoes.
“I don’t recall inviting you.” Shu frowned at the unwanted guests, whose addition would push their tea party into ‘crowded’ territory.
“I only came to see what all the fuss was about. I don’t need an invitation to one of your parties.” Eichi’s gaze flicked across the room and landed on an open mouthed Mika, holding a tray of pastries, who wore the same black dress, but coordinated with a transparent black chiffon shirt whose neckline was much lower. His lacy rectangle headdress blended right into his dark hair, and his jacquard knee socks and ankle boots were also black, but the monochromatic effect was charming. Eichi sniffed.
“Wearing the same dress? How unoriginal.”
“It’s called twinning. Do your research. Not everything can be done just by throwing money at it.” Shu raked his eyes over Eichi’s coord, disapproval clear in his expression. Why this idiot wore the most ridiculous, over the top, impossibly expensive dress to an informal gathering, he couldn’t fathom.
“You artists would be nothing without the support of your patrons. You know, rich people. Like me,” Eichi huffed. His plan was already starting to fall apart. As scrawny as he was, the expensive brand name dress only barely fit. The squeeze through his torso was unforgiving, the petticoats needed to give adequate poofiness to such a heavy dress weighed him down, as he had not thought to purchase a hoop skirt instead, and the shoes did not give him arch support. Nevertheless, his ivory Rococo coord was stunning. The princess sleeves fluttered at his elbows, the ruffles lay beautifully along his front, and the open neckline graced the world with his collarbone. The heels gave him a shapelier calf, the tall socks covered his leg hairs, and the bonnet framed his face much better than his limp hair ever could.
Perhaps he would give up the brand prestige and get something in a custom size from one of those ‘indie’ brands so prized by the artsy idiots.
Keito shuffled past the duo in their stand off, already exhausted. Why were these boys wearing dresses? Why was the table covered with snacks and tea like this was some normal meeting of friends?
“Yo.” Kuro patted the spot on the table beside him. From the waist up it almost looked like he was wearing a regular kimono, but the wider sleeves and obi were clearly of the feminine type. He too wore a rectangle headdress and his skirt was fluffy with petticoats.
“Is that… repurposed Akatsuki clothing?” The fabrics looked disconcertingly familiar to Keito as he sat down and looked closer.
“It’s the ‘wa’ substyle. It mixes Japanese clothing and what those two’re wearing. I like it.” He poured a cup of wonderfully fragrant tea for his friend, who sipped it with gratitude. It wasn’t even noon yet, and Keito’s nerves were already frayed. His new glasses were in need of an adjustment, and the constant movement to push them up his nose was aggravating enough. The neckline of his shirt was suffocating, his shoes were not broken in yet, and he hadn’t slept well. He didn’t need Eichi’s pettiness, nor any resulting fight, on top of all that.
Mika, who had been frozen in place, at last moved to set the food on the table before darting back to get more, or hide, or both. Shu stalked right after him, fed up with Eichi’s nonsense. Apparently unfazed, Eichi walked slowly to the table, conscious of the diameter of his skirts relative to the space of the shop, and sat.
“Well, then.” Eichi smiled politely at the two sitting across from him. “How about that tea?”
“Right.” Sensing the tension, Kuro spoke no further as he poured another cup of tea. Eichi inhaled the steamy fragrance, took a sip, and frowned, but at least he knew better than to vocalize his insult to the plebians. They were doing their best. He had learned something.