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Banri stretches, groaning at the satisfying pop of her spine as she rolls her shoulders back. The leaders' meeting was so boring tonight — she barely managed to sit through all of it without nodding off. In the end, they cut it short after everyone’s reports. There really isn't much to talk about in between the plays. They still don't have a script or even a theme to work with so all they can do in rehearsals is revisit the basics. As fun as it can be, when reporting back on it there's literally nothing to say. So she’s glad they finished early.
On her way back to room 104, she grabs a bottle of soy milk out of the fridge and presses it to the side of her neck. The summer heat is too overwhelming, air thick and sticky, screwing up her skin worse by the day. She should probably drink some water instead, but whatever.
Stepping into the courtyard, faint noises of cicadas reach her ears and it makes her realize just how late it's gotten. Summer messes with her sense of time — the heat lingers long after the sun, stretching the days out until everything blurs together. The sky still burns a deep orange, not quite night yet, but she heads for her room anyway. No point in sweating it out when she can hide in the AC until Sakyo inevitably shuts it off. Maybe by then, the air outside won’t feel so suffocating.
She opens the door and is only slightly surprised to see her roommate inside. She thought Taichi had said something about a group Yosei study session. Well, whatever. Except…
She freezes at the image in front of her.
“… Is that mine?” Banri asks, her hand still touching the door handle as she stands in the doorway confused.
Juza looks up, eyebrows furrowed and the corners of her lips downturned in a permanent scowl. Banri knows it’s her default expression, though, and doesn’t miss the way a bit of red dyes the tips of her ears.
After a moment of shock, she tears her eyes away from Banri’s and once more focuses on her reflection in the mirror.
“Ever heard o’ knockin’?” she mumbles, patting at the fabric of the white skirt she was wearing to adjust it. It lies on her awkwardly, almost reaching her knee — way lower than this cut was designed for — and the ruffles flare out at her hips in clumsy angles. That’s not how the skirt is supposed to look.
That’s not how the skirt looks on Banri. On Banri, it looks good.
Because it’s hers.
“I told you not to touch my fuckin’ stuff,” she hisses, feeling the annoyance brew in her stomach. She shuts the door a little harder than necessary and takes a deep breath — like Tsumugi has taught her — to try and stop the heat of incoming rage from rushing through her body. “Take it off. Yer gonna stretch it out.”
“We’re the same size,” Juza says, not showing any inclination to do as told. “And you don’t even wear it.”
“I totally wore it, like, last year.” She lets out an irritated huff. “You could’ve at least asked.”
“You don’t ask to borrow my jacket.”
Banri feels her face heating up at that. “It was once! It was cold out and you were away!”
“Okay.” Juza plays with the waistband of the skirt a bit more, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly more than in her resting expression. “… I’m not borrowin’ it anyway,” she mumbles, her voice a bit softer. “Just tryin’ on.”
She groans.
What-fucking-ever.
Putting down her bottle of soy milk on the with a soft clink, Banri sits on the floor, crossing her legs and propping her head up on her hand as she leans on the table in the middle of their room. With the phone in her other hand, she mindlessly scrolls through Inste, watching Juza from the corner of her eye.
She doesn’t actually care. Even before she moved to the dorms — where her clothes are constantly stolen by Kazu and Taichi — she’d already gotten used to it. Growing up with a sister who had no concept of personal space meant their closet was basically shared until she got married and moved out, finally giving Banri back custody of her own damn wardrobe. Maybe it’s some kind of older sister gene — taking stuff without asking.
So what if Hyodo does it too? Banri’s always had great taste. Her closet is a masterpiece. About time her roommate admitted that too.
…Well. Her clothes are great, yeah.
But you gotta know how to wear them, too.
Juza successfully manages to adjust the waistband in a way that the skirt now reaches her mid-thigh, as it should. She tucks her shirt in, stares at herself for a couple seconds, then untucks it, and stares at herself some more. Then, tucks it back in. The longer the whole ordeal takes, the deeper the frown on her face grows, frustration etching itself into the wrinkles between her eyebrows, her tightened lips, her narrowed eyes.
Banri wants to ignore her. But…
For just a moment, she’s revisited by a distant memory.
The image of herself, staring blankly into the mirror, wearing her sister’s school uniform — before she even knew what any of that meant for her. It was too big. Obviously. Her sister was in middle school already. The skirt lay flatly on her narrow hips. The shirt was too loose. The uniform didn’t suit her.
Or she didn’t suit the uniform.
Well, at the time she didn’t know, but now she knows better.
“It doesn’t suit you,” Banri says, not looking up from her phone.
“… Ha?” Juza turns to her, and Banri can practically feel the death stare aimed in her direction.
“What I said.” She closes Inste, tossing her phone on the table. She folds her arms on the table and hides her face in them. “It doesn’t suit you.”
Juza doesn’t reply right away. Maybe because she doesn’t feel like entertaining Banri’s bullshit. Or maybe because she knows it’s true.
Banri knows Juza has never been one to care for fashion or dressing up. It became even more obvious after they graduated from high school and she couldn’t wear her school uniform most of the time anymore. Now, she mostly wears sweatpants and T-shirts. Maybe jeans if she needs to look more decent. But honestly, Banri’s never seen her wearing a skirt that wasn’t a part of her school uniform. And even that was long enough to cover her legs completely.
The silence stretches, and Banri figures it’s the latter. Juza knows Banri has an eye for this kind of thing. No matter how much they bicker, they both acknowledge each other’s strengths — one of Banri’s being sense of aesthetic.
Finally, fabric rustles, and Banri peeks up just in time to catch Juza fiddling with the zipper at the side of the skirt.
She briefly catches Juza’s eye in the mirror — her gaze is sharp, glaring in an intimidating fashion. It’s her default expression. But Banri catches a little bit of something else reflecting in her golden eyes.
It seems a little bit like sorrow.
… Idiot.
Why is she even trying it on, anyway? Is she trying to impress someone? Get their attention? If it’s a miniskirt… it’s for a guy, right?
Banri swallows against the irritation tightening her throat before opening her mouth.
“… Your tits are too big,” Banri mumbles. Whatever. Why should she care if Hyodo’s dressing up for a guy? It’s none of her business. Fuck.
Juza freezes, the zipper still halfway up. “… What.”
“You really think you can wear shit like that with your cow udders?” she asks and then, with a sigh, she gets up.
“The fuck’s your problem? What’s that even got to do with anythin’?” Juza’s voice drops lower — it’s familiar, but Banri hasn’t heard her like that in years. She sounds a bit more like she did in her delinquent days. “You pickin’ a fight?”
“Shut up and take it off,” Banri just says, walking past Juza and opening the door to her closet. She grabs a couple hangers — the first ones that she sees that seem like they’d do the job — before throwing them to the side. When she meets Juza’s gaze again, she scoffs.
Juza continues to stare at her dumbfounded, the white skirt still hanging on her hips loosely.
“You deaf? Take it off. I don’t have all day,” she says, her eyes narrowing in growing frustration.
With the confusion only becoming more apparent, Juza’s hands clumsily pulled the zipper down, letting the skirt fall to the floor, leaving her in her underwear.
“Try this,” Banri says, taking one of the hangers and throwing it at her roommate who stumbles to catch it. “And lose the shirt too. This should do.” She tosses another hanger in her direction.
Surprisingly, Juza doesn’t protest and does as told, although still watching Banri warily. She puts the blouse on first — a beige satin blouse with a low neckline and long sleeves. Banri doesn’t really wear it; it’s too loose for her. But it seems to fit Juza just fine. After that, she puts on the skirt as well. It’s a simple black pencil skirt.
Before Juza can zip it up, though, Banri stops her to tuck the blouse into the skirt neatly, watching the reflection in the mirror carefully before zipping it up herself. She pulls the skirt down a bit, but it doesn’t help much. It’s still a bit shorter than intended. Well, it can’t be helped. Banri’s already used to the fact most clothes aren’t made for girls of their height.
Next, she reaches over Juza’s shoulder and adjusts the neckline, smoothing the fabric so it sits right without pulling too much. She knows Juza’s self-conscious about her cleavage, so on second thought, this might not work… She may need to try a different top.
“It’s hard to style a big bust,” Banri murmurs, not tearing her eyes away from the mirror. “You can’t wear frilly skirts like that unless you know what you’re doin’. Y’know, with layers and shit. They’ll make you look fat.”
Juza doesn’t reply, but the way her eyebrow twitches and her eyes burn into the surface of the mirror, Banri can see her making mental notes of her words.
“Same with loose tops,” she continues. “If you’re gonna wear somethin’ baggy, you gotta balance it out. Either show some leg or make sure your waist doesn’t disappear, or you’ll look like a damn rectangle.”
Banri puts her hands on Juza’s waist, where the shirt is tucked into the skirt, and Juza jumps a little at the sudden contact.
“Wear a belt or somethin’ if yer not tuckin’ in.” She smooths out the fabric real quick before letting go, watching Juza’s shoulders relax a little. “Also, you’re tall, so mix tones. Y’know, light on top, dark on the bottom, or the other way around. It’ll make your legs look longer and won’t bring as much attention to your tits.”
She pulls the neckline of the blouse a little lower. A necklace would work here… Maybe the gold one?
“You gotta be careful with skin-tight tops. You’ll look too vulgar if you don’t layer up,” Banri says. “But for the looser ones, you need a lower neckline. Oh, showin’ your shoulders could work with your body too.”
She moves away, taking one last look at the outfit. It’s simple, but it’s safe. Black ankle boots and, once it gets colder out, a coat should work just fine with it.
“Try the orange top, too,” she says, glancing at the pile of clothes she left to the side. “The color probably won’t suit your skin tone, but the neckline is higher so it won’t show as much cleavage. It looks good with flared pants too.”
“… It’s all so complicated,” Juza murmurs, her voice a little shaky. “Like science.”
“You think just about anyone could dress as well as me? Don’t underestimate me.” She laughs under her breath.
“I guess there’s one thing yer good at.”
“Oi—”
“Settsu,” Juza cuts in before Banri can talk back. She turns around to face her properly, .
She has a serious look on her face — actually serious, not her usual stoic expression.
“… Thanks,” she says, refusing to break eye contact. Her gaze is relentless and genuine — like everything about her has always been. Sincere and honest. As if she didn’t know how to be anything but.
Her golden eyes bore into Banri’s, sharp and overwhelming. It makes a lot of people uncomfortable; the intensity of her gaze and her bad habit of never looking away when she’s talking to someone. But Banri’s used to it. The slightly upturned shape of her eyes and a defined jawline gives her this androgynous charm — something a lot of aspiring otokoyaku envy, and something Juza can’t seem to take full advantage of anyway. Her short hair only adds to it; ever since she chopped it all off after graduation, she’s looked even more like a man than before. She doesn’t even wear make-up either.
And yet, somehow, it works — the way her androgynous looks contrast with the classy, delicate satin of the blouse. The low neckline frames her collarbones and cleavage, toned-down beige not bringing too much attention to her exposed skin but highlighting it in the subtlest way. Banri's eyes naturally wander to the cinch of her waist — a waist that she almost forgot Juza has with the way she basically lives in loose T-shirts — created by the loose fit of the blouse tucked into the skirt, the tight fit of it not leaving much to the imagination and showing the clear curve of her hips. Additionally, with the balance of the outfit creating the illusion of long, slender legs, Banri can’t help but get a little lightheaded at the thought of what her legs would look like in high heels. Well, she wouldn’t be able to walk in them anyway.
It doesn’t seem right. Juza’s boyish face and lack of womanly charm should not work the way it does. Her clothes and face should be clashing.
But somehow, she makes it work.
The classy clothes don’t clash with her at all.
They don’t take away from what Banri always looks at.
Furrowed eyebrows, downturned corners of the mouth, sharp eyes… And slightly reddened tips of the ears.
Banri is the first one to break eye contact, clearing her throat awkwardly and feeling the heat crawling up her neck. “W—Whatever, I just didn’t want to watch you embarrass yourself.”
She turns on her heel to head for the door. Suddenly, the entire room feels too hot. Too stuffy. She… needs some fresh air.
Before she can touch the door handle, though, Juza stops her.
“You free sometime this week?”
Banri freezes. “… I guess. Why?”
“… Wanna go shoppin’ together?” Juza asks, her voice lower, as if she’s getting more and more self-conscious with every passing second. “You could… help me pick somethin’ out.”
Banri blinks. Is she serious? She can’t mean that, right? Have they ever gone out together; just the two of them? No, why would she even want that? Why would she want Banri’s help to find clothes she’d potentially wear for some random-ass guy? Can’t she go with someone like Yuki or Tenma? They have a good fashion sense too. That’d probably make for a better, more productive shopping trip than with Banri, who she’s always butting heads with. Like, sure they haven’t had a serious fight in a long time, and Banri maybe doesn’t hate her as much as she used to, and maybe she has a little bit of an unidentified gross little inkling of a feeling for Juza crawling in her stomach and making her want to puke at the sole idea of giving it a name. Sure. But even so, why would Juza want to…?
Her neck feels even warmer, the heat spreading to her face and chest as she grips the door handle.
“… Guess it can’t be helped,” she says, willing her voice not to shake with what she can’t decide is nervousness or excitement. She settles for irritation. “Sure, whatever. But you owe me.”
Before Juza can say anything to that, she leaves the room and almost slams the door shut.
She slaps herself on the cheeks, her hands feeling cold on the heated skin, biting down on the stupid smile threatening to form.