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Shiro hesitantly wandered closer to Hoshido's Capital, watching from a distance as the streets were filled with noise and banners and dancing. He stood still, not wanting to cross into the city streets proper. What if his dad was there, actually talking with the people he claimed were under threat? What if he saw his aunts? What if...
His traveling companion of the day chuckled at the sight of his face, nudging him. "C'mon, Shiro. Don't tell me you've never celebrated in the Festival of Bonds?"
He... hadn't, actually. But he couldn't just say that. He scoffed and said, "What, that stupid thing? I'm too busy rescuing people to think of celebrating the normal way, Yasuo."
"You just think that because you're still a teen, Shiro." The other man chuckled. "You always were nervous about this place. What? Did the King insult you or something?"
Haha. Hahahaha. Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. "I just don't want to be seen, y'know?"
Yasuo chuckled. "C'mon! Live a little! Where'd all that bravado go? Where's the teen that'd throw himself in front of a faceless go?"
Shiro humphed, gaze turning back to the city. He could see streamers and flags waving. Even from here, there was a faint din of noise coming from the city. He kinda wanted to go. But he promised he wouldn't try to come back. Not unless he was ready to face his family.
Yasuo hummed, and Shiro blinked as he heard the man swing his apothecary pack around and set it in front of him. He unclipped the top of the pack, tossing it open and looking inside. Shiro leaned over, curious as to what he was grabbing. Yasuo pulled out an organized tray of vials, putting them aside. reaching past various bags of herbs, he pulled out something dusty from the very bottom of the pack. It was... a mask. It looked feminine in shape.
"There we go." Yasuo held the mask up to Shiro. "Sorry, my other masks broke. This was from the Masquerade Festival in Nohr last year. It should work for keeping your identity hidden, if that's your worry."
Shiro tried to carefully, so carefully, pluck the mask from Yasuo's hands. As he held it in his own, he registered Yasuo putting his tray of vials back into his pack. "I didn't know you went that far."
"I didn't know a spear master from Hoshido could wield lances with Nohrian expertise." Yasuo countered, shifting his pack back onto his back and standing up. "You know how to put on a mask, right?"
Shiro pulled back on the ties on the back of the mask, pulling it around his head. He snapped it on, then adjusted it so that it hung on his upper forehead. "... They could still recognize my robes."
Yasuo rolled his eyes. "You sure do love to drag things out. I do happen to know a seamstress that's close by." He reached out and grabbed Shiro's hand. "C'mon, Shiro. She probably has something that can replace those robes of yours. Then it'll be like Shiro never was in the city."
Shiro let Yasuo drag him inside the city, trying to keep his head down as they walked by houses and dancing kids. "Do you act like this with your kid?"
Yasuo laughed. "If by kid you mean my protege, then no. Midori's much too well-behaved for that. You, though!" Yasuo turned a corner, and Shiro stumbled after him. "You're as stubborn as a mule! I've gotta teach you some things! I swear!"
Shiro laughed, jumping over a limp banner that obviously fell from above, disconnected from one of the houses they were connected to. "Thanks, man..."
They came across a housefront absolutely covered in fabric, with banners flying from the window and overhang. Yasuo stopped, smiling. "Ah, she's finally got herself in the spirit, eh? Well, we're going in."
Shiro wasn't going to argue with that. He broke from Yasuo's hand and brushed aside some fabric to get inside the store. Inside was an elderly woman, fixing up the fabric on a mannequin. A ton of other similar fabric but with different patterns hung up on one of the other walls. Another section of the shop had a mirror stand set up, with clothes on the floor in a heap.
The elderly woman lifted her head from what she was doing, and turned to face Shiro. Yasuo parted the fabric behind him, causing a bit of the sun to glare through. She hissed. "Yasuo, close the fabric."
Yasuo laughed. "Ah, friendly as always, Tsuru, hm? And here I thought you got friendlier, what with the celebration of bonds you've got going on."
"There's some kids that really need it right now." Tsuru huffed. "I still don't forgive you for what you did to my shop."
Her eyes trailed back to Shiro, and her eyebrows rose. Shiro went stiff, watching as her eyes trailed him up and down. As she observed, Yasuo muttered some excuses about needing to experiment with medicine to truly get the best results, and Shiro desperately wanted him to shut up.
"Your clothes are old, dear." Tsuru concluded, turning away from her mannequin completely. "I'd advise you look around my store. And you!" She turned to Yasuo, who stopped trying to talk when she pointed a finger at him. "You better stand outside my store, young man!"
"I'm 40—"
"Out! I will have none of your apothecary behind in here!" Tsuru waved her hands, and Yasuo took the sign to walk outside. He pulled the fabric shut, leaving only filtered sunlight behind.
Tsuru sighed, and she turned towards Shiro. "To land such a companion... How old are you, dearie?"
Uh. "17."
"Oh, an adult, huh?" Tsuru chuckled. "And so tall already. Alright, I'll find something for you. Stay here."
The older woman hobbled towards the back of her store, disappearing into a curtain of fabric. Shiro watched her go, then let his eyes wander. There were a lot of kimonos on display, and Shiro let himself drift towards them. His hands lifted up to a kimono that had red flowers sewn into it, and he brushed his hand down it.
His mom would like that, wouldn't she? He pulled the other kimonos away from it— oops, a blue kimono fell. He kicked it aside, leaning up to pull the kimono from the wall and letting a bit more light in. He felt the kimono in his hands. It felt surprisingly light. He was honestly a little scared he'd tear it, but it called to him.
Maybe his royal birth could be worth something. He remembered wearing yukata when he was younger. Maybe he still got it.
When Tsuru emerged from the room, Shiro heard her footsteps, and then he heard the sound of a lot of fabric hitting the ground.
Shiro continued to stare straight into the mirror, trying desperately to get his obi to stay on and also ignore the stream of muttered words coming from the older woman. He heard her foosteps approach, and then the cord and obi in his hands ripped away. He grabbed the fabric in his hands and held it tight. He got the fabric part right, but getting the obi to stay on was a nightmare...
Tsuru huffed. "Dearie, this is meant for women. I've brought you fabric that'll fit you..."
Shiro gripped tighter onto his kimono. "No, I want... I want this one. Do you have anything like it?"
Tsuru stared. Then she hummed, putting the obi beneath her arms. "Well, this obi won't fit your stature, but I can grab one that will. Hold on, will you?" She hobbled back towards the back, and Shiro's eyes stared after her before he looked back into the mirror.
He pulled the mask closer to his actual face, watching himself in the mirror. The fabric seemed to fit, despite his stature, though that could be because he was pulling the fabric together. His hair was a bit due for a cut, so it hovered around his shoulders. He'd need to steal his mom's scissors again.
... But he looked pretty. He looked like the type of woman his mom really was.
He... didn't know how to feel about that.
It would work.
He... couldn't keep this?
He heard footsteps, and he tore his gaze away from the mirror. He quickly shuffled his mask back up to his forehead. Tsuru had a much bigger obi in her arms, with the cord dangling from her fingers. Shiro chuckled. He needed to get this on, stat.
"Bring it on, I know how to tie those."
"No you don't." Tsuru laughed. "Not mine!" She walked forward, and held out a hand to push him back towards the mirror.
Shiro tried to stay in place, feet against the ground. Tsuru huffed as her arms weren't able to push him. She backed up, staring up at him. "Don't be difficult, dear. Hold this." Tsuru shoved the obi and cord into his arms, and Shiro yelped as he tried to make sure nothing fell to the floor. The fabric of the kimono slipped a little as he did so. He couldn't care about that as he held the obi in his arms.
The mirror was lifted slightly, and she pushed it over to where Shiro was standing. "Turn around, dear."
Shiro closed his eyes and turned around. He felt the obi get lifted from his arms, and he withstood as she wrapped the obi around his waist. He felt her pull the kimono up to where it was supposed to be, and felt as she started to wrap the cord around him.
His eyes slipped open.
... He looked nice. Tsuru's form in the mirror was barely noticable as she adjusted the fabric beneath the obi, humming as she did so.
Shiro opened his eyes fully, lifting up his hands to the mask again. Tsuru grumbled a, "stay still, young one...."
Shiro pulled the mask down again.
... He didn't look like anyone recognizable. But it was still him in the mirror. His hand traced his mask.
Tsuru huffed, and she stepped back. "You look like a nice young woman, young man."
Huh.
That was nice. It would do for his time in the city.
Maybe he'd think up a name for himself. Or maybe he'd be a mysterious woman, wandering around a flourishing city.
His heart felt tangled. He wasn't supposed to like looking like this, right? But he did.
"Well, it fits you, so..." Tsuru clasped her hands together. "That'll be all the gold you have, dearie!"
Ah. Well...
Yasuo brushed aside the fabric again, sighing as he walked inside. "Don't be like that, Tsuru. We'll give you what it's worth."
"Like you'd know that after you offered me that little gold after burning my place down!" Tsuru huffed. "It was only by good will that I was able to rebuild! Those poor kids had to work so hard for me..."
Shiro leaned down to his pockets on his spear master robes on the floor, bringing out some gold pieces. He handed them over to Tsuru. "How's this? Thank a woman for dressing her up and all."
"Getting into character already, are we?" Yasuo chuckled.
Tsuru took the gold pieces, counting them out. She hummed. "Good enough. Have a good time out there, young man."
That tangled feeling again. Shiro grumbled. "Yeah, we'll be out of your hair. Bye."
Yasuo sighed, sitting down on the step. His knee still hurt, and the scar over his right eye still made it hard to see out of it. The weather felt nice— there wasn't an ache in his ankle right now. His young granddaughters played in the street, chasing each other with banners formed into snakes. His daughter was inside, putting away the healing staff that was almost out of uses.
It was close to that time again, was it? The time where he and Shiro had passed through during the festival. He got caught up in that attack, so even if he wanted to find Shiro again, he couldn't wander around like he once did. He swirled a cup of tea in his hands. It was still warm in his hands, serving as a heat pack for his swollen knee.
Footsteps approached him. "You're the guy that was with that beautiful woman last year, right?"
Yasuo's working eye drifted up to a young woman who looked to be about Shiro's age. He chuckled. "I was. We split ways after the festival, though. I don't know where she went."
"Oh, bummer." The woman sighed, sitting down beside him. "I thought you'd be able to tell me her name. She showed off her skills to everybody around... She was so hot, too..."
Yasuo snorted. Shiro really did play into being disguised as a woman quite well, didn't he? It was almost like he enjoyed all of it, not just the games. Yasuo couldn't imagine why that could be.
"Even with all the muscles?"
"Especially with the muscle!" The young woman laughed. "I hope I'll see her again."