YUMI, OF COURSE, instantly felt mortified at her breakdown. She tried to control her tears as she took Akane by the hand and bowed to her in thanks.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t against the rules for a yoki-hijo to cry. Many of these rules had been instituted by older yoki-hijo themselves, after all—and so they’d made crying in front of others the thing that was against protocol.
I find it telling. They all understood. For one living the life of a yoki- hijo, breakdowns were basically inevitable. You just had to hide them as best you could.
Regardless, Yumi knew she shouldn’t act this way. It was just such a relief to have someone pay attention to her needs. Akane’s attempt to help, albeit in a small way, was physically overwhelming.
This place was just so strange. That sky felt like it would swallow her, but that was somehow the least of it. She’d seen enormous vehicles—carrying tons of people—moving through the nearby streets. These buildings towered around her, stacks of stones piled so straight, glued together. They could have been mountains. And
then there were those twin lines of light glowing and hovering in the air above every street, connected to every building, forming garish glowing signs.
She’d been dumped into all of this without any direction. She felt lost, even when she knew where she was. She felt terrified even though she wasn’t in danger. Worst, she’d had to go out wearing… wearing this mess.
Akane patted her hand as if troubled. Nearby, Painter stared at her, frowning. He seemed baffled. Well, Yumi understood both of their emotions.
“Right, then,” Akane said, towing Yumi out the door. “I know a place.” Her shoes made a sharp clopping sound on the strange black- stone street. It didn’t sound like a pair of clogs, but it was comforting nonetheless.
Yumi seized her emotions in a death grip and wrangled them under control. As soon as her tears stopped, however, she found she was still humiliated—not merely because of her outburst, but because of what had happened the last time she’d met this woman.
“Akane,” she said. “Last time we spoke…I embarrassed myself by exposing, flagrantly, my ignorance. Please accept not just my apologies, but my sincere remunerations—anything I can do in your favor, I will extend.”
“It’s not your fault your brother is a creep, Yumi.”
“He’s not a creep!” Yumi said quickly. Then paused. Was that a lie?
She wasn’t completely certain. “In truth, I misunderstood what he was saying. He was speaking of…of the dramas he likes to watch. Not of anyone he knows. In addition, I was overwhelmed. People in the city are…different from the way people are back home.”
“I’ve heard about the smaller towns,” Akane said with a laugh. “I know things are more traditional there. We must look a sight to you!”
“It’s more the city itself,” Yumi said, staring to the right as they crossed a road. “The streets seem to go on forever. So many people all in one place, building monoliths toward a dark sky. Living atop one
another, piled like stones in a wall…”
Akane smiled.
“Did I say something wrong?” Yumi asked, lowering her eyes. “I gravely apologize for my foolishness.”
“You’re not foolish,” Akane said. “Actually, I was thinking that I like the way you talk. It has a kind of…poetic feel to it.”
Poetic? She was merely speaking with proper formality. Still, it would not be polite to correct Akane, so she held her tongue. Akane led her to a large structure with bigger windows and brighter lights than many. Yumi glanced over her shoulder toward Painter, who was following along behind, hands in his pockets. He didn’t seem to want to talk, but she made sure to linger at the door so he could follow her.
Then all her attention was captured by the place inside those doors: a vast open room full of displays and statues wearing clothing.
Hundreds of skirts hanging in artfully arranged racks. Shirts piled high in cubbies on the walls. Shoes in a thousand different varieties, raised up on tables to show them off.
“So,” Akane said, “you’ll need at least a couple of outfits. Three, maybe? That could keep you going until you can send for something from home.”
Yumi simply stared. Bright lights presented it all, of a whiter light than the lines outside. Dozens of people moved among the racks, chatting, pointing at different options. Was this…this all just here for people to take?
“What do you like to wear?” Akane said gently, nudging her.
“Yumi?”
“I…” she whispered. “There’s so much…”
“Their selection,” Akane said, “is acceptable.” She leaned in.
“Shinzua Shopping Center has more cutting-edge trends, but the prices there are insane. This place is a good balance.”
Prices.
Right, money. Normal people needed money to buy things.
Yumi panicked. “I have misled you, honored Akane! I don’t possess any money for—”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I’ll cover it and charge your brother. Trust me.
He’ll pay me back. I’ll make sure of it.”
Oh. Well, she supposed that he owed her that much. She pointedly didn’t look toward him as she nodded.
“So, three outfits?” Akane said. “One skirt, two pairs of pants, some shirts?”
“No!” Yumi said, too forcefully. “Um, dresses? Full dresses? Is that acceptable?” Maybe she could find something similar to what she’d worn at home. Even though…she had yet to see a single woman
wearing anything of the sort.
“Sure,” Akane said. “This way.”
They wove between racks of clothing, and the garments all appeared so…slight. Shirts that fit tightly on the torso, skirts so light and flowing they seemed made of air and clouds. She and Akane emerged into a section selling dresses, and Yumi’s feeling of intimidation built. How did anyone choose? She had always worn what she’d been dressed in—never voicing an opinion. Because why would she need one of those?
She was about to tell Akane to find her the thickest, bulkiest dress —when she froze. Just ahead, a statue of a woman with no face stood on a pedestal, wearing something gorgeous. Flowing, but not insubstantial, the light blue dress deepened to a darker color near the floor—like it was the blossom of a flower. It did outline the form, as all of the dresses in this place did, but didn’t hug it like the skirts that Akane favored. Instead it had a fluid, rippling sense to it.
To wear something like that… It would flare when she turned. It would leave her shoulders mostly bare, save for two straps, though the neckline wasn’t nearly as daring as the other dresses’. It would show more of her than she had ever exposed.
But it was like the gown a queen would wear. A queen from a story.
A woman, not a girl of commanding primal spirits.
“Ah,” Akane said, stepping back to join her. “Someone has remarkably good taste. What’s your size? I’ll go get one off the racks.”
“No!” Yumi said, taking her by the arm. “I can’t, honored Akane. It’s too…daring.”
Akane glanced toward the dress, then back at Yumi, who blushed. (Perhaps Akane was thinking that wearing a sweater as a skirt was the actual daring maneuver.) “Look,” Akane said, patting her hand. “I won’t force you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But you’re in the city now, Yumi.
There’s no better time to try out something new—be a little daring, so to speak. It might not seem so to you, but that dress is actually pretty conservative here.”
Yumi refrained from eyeing Akane’s own skirt, which appeared about one yawn-and-stretch away from flipping up and turning into a belt instead. Perhaps…the other one was conservative. And the spirits hadn’t punished her for the lies she’d been forced to tell…so maybe they knew she’d have to do things differently here. To accomplish their designs?
That was her excuse, at least. In truth, looking up at that dress— and realizing she could simply choose to wear it—awakened something in her. This inclination hadn’t been sleeping deeply, hadn’t been hidden far underneath the surface. It had been lurking, even back in her world. Liyun would have called it dangerous.
Liyun wasn’t here.
“Let’s try it,” Yumi whispered, clinging to Akane.
“Great! What’s your size?”
Yumi felt herself blushing. “I…don’t know. I’ve never been shopping
before.”
“What?”
“I just always wore what was given to me.”
“Siblings?” she said (lowly). “You’re the youngest then? That’s rough, always wearing hand-me-downs. I know how it feels. So this is
your first time?”
Yumi nodded.
“No wonder you look like a moth in a light bulb factory,” Akane said.
“How about this: you point out a few other mannequins with a style you like, and I’ll gather together a selection of similar things, then bring them to your changing room to try on. That way you don’t have to pick from hundreds of options, only a dozen or so.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Yumi said (highly). “Thank you, Akane.
You are an honor to your family, your lineage, and the spirits themselves.”
“And you,” Akane said, “are an absolute charm bracelet of a person.”
Akane led her to a servant who worked at the place, and there they took some very personal measurements of Yumi. Akane seemed to think this would embarrass her, but standing there and being prodded was the first thing Yumi found familiar about this entire experience.
Despite not being particularly fond of doing it in front of Painter.
“Don’t suppose you know your bra size?” Akane asked after that part was done.
“Uh…” Would saying she didn’t know what that was make her seem too odd? She didn’t want to act too strange, lest people realize she was literally an alien. “No?”
The next measurements were even more personal. But Yumi suffered it, and soon found herself deposited in a small hallway with a set of rooms apparently for trying on clothing. Painter sat outside as she stepped into one, though she didn’t have any clothing to try on yet—Akane was still gathering it.
“What,” Yumi hissed at Painter through the open door, “is a ‘bra’?”
“Undergarment,” he said. “For women.” He hesitated, then
gestured toward his chest.
“Oh,” she said. “Why not a bosom band?”
“That…might be a better question for Akane than me.”
“I suppose,” she said, “that you find all of this a frivolous distraction.”
He shrugged, looking out toward where Akane passed by, now leading two different shop servants. “You need clothes, Yumi. And I don’t know anyone better to help you get them than Akane.”
“She’s very pretty,” Yumi said.
“Prettiest in our class at school,” he agreed.
“Tell me what you like about her, other than the fact that she’s pretty.”
He paused, and took an embarrassing—for him—amount of time to reply. “She has great fashion sense.”
“That’s basically another way of saying she’s pretty.”
“Why do you care?” he snapped.
“Well, I’ve already noticed that she’s a tender and helpful person,”
Yumi said. “I was simply curious if that is why you’re so infatuated with her.”
“I’m not infatuated,” Painter said, and sounded serious, not defensive. “I just have a lot of time to think. Maybe too much time to think. And dream.” He shook his head as Akane passed back the other way, the two servants laden with clothing, and…was that a third hurrying along after them?
Hadn’t she said she was only going to get a few outfits for Yumi to try on?
“She was nice to me,” Painter finally said. “Even though I was from a small town. When we first met in class three years ago, a few of the others made fun of me. Akane instead asked what made me want to be a painter…”
When he didn’t continue, Yumi asked, “You had a choice?” It sounded stupid when she said it. It seemed obvious in retrospect that he’d chosen to become a painter. Yet few people in Torio actually got to decide what they did. You generally just inherited your family’s
trade. Unless you were a yoki-hijo.
“It’s how we do things here,” he said.
“And you became a painter of nightmares?” she said. “Why?”
Before he could answer, Akane came striding back—four servants in tow, all laden with clothing. Yumi was accepting the first armload, listening to Akane’s instructions, before she realized that Painter could have simply answered her. No one could hear him but her, so why fall silent when others were near?
Soon Yumi was closed in her little room, surrounded by too many options. She began by peeling off the layers she’d chosen to wear, finding her skin sweaty underneath. She hadn’t really been paying attention, but it felt nice to be out of that clothing—it had actually been too warm. Perhaps she was adjusting to this semifrozen land.
The first undergarment made sense, but the bra…well, that was formidable. She could see how it was to be worn, but there were straps and a clip and…well, it took some work. She did pause while putting it on, marveling at the stretchiness of some of the cloth. How did they make it do that?
She got the thing on finally, though she had to put it on backward to get the clip fastened, then twist it around and fit herself into it. It felt kind of constrictive, and it outlined her form instead of flattening it as was normal. She supposed that was how Akane and the others made their figures look so…prominent. Why would they want to be more conspicuous?
The bra seemed a purely vain thing, and she almost took it off to go without. But then she turned, and cocked her head. Then she tried jumping. And…
That felt nice. Not that it was comfortable really, but it certainly prevented discomfort.
“Yumi?” Akane asked from outside. “You okay?”
“This bra,” she said, jumping again, “is incredible.”
“Never had one that fits right, eh?” Akane asked. “You’d be surprised the difference it makes.”
It was her intention to try on the pretty dress last, but…well, her curiosity got the better of her. She pulled it on, then looked at herself in the changing mirror. It was beautiful, like clouds above a deep blue sky—like the wind itself given shape and sent to embrace her.
But there was a magnetism to it beyond its overt beauty. It transformed her into someone else. Someone who could make a choice. It was the first time in her entire life that she’d made a decision just for herself.
Akane had brought her a small bag of toiletries, and inside was a brush. Yumi stroked her hair with this a few times, getting rid of the frazzles, then stood and stared at the mythical being in the mirror, feeling a disconnect, trying to accept that it was her.
“Well?” Akane called. “Come on! Let me see!”
Yumi blushed immediately, putting her hands to her bare shoulders.
The previous layers had been too hot, but this was undoubtedly too cold. “I don’t know if I can,” she called out. “My shoulders are naked!”
“Ah!” Akane said. “Well, you’re lucky. Because I thought of that.
Look at the first hook on your right for the matching top.”
Yumi looked and saw a short buttoning top. You might call it a dress cardigan, but it was a bit fancier than that—a little more stiff (of a denim blend) and shorter, not even reaching to her navel. It reminded Yumi a little of the top part of the tobok she wore among her people, only with shorter sleeves.
She removed it from its hanger and hesitantly pulled it on. It matched the dress nicely. The fit was close, and she sported a distinctly feminine silhouette. She tried not to be embarrassed about that as she opened the door.
Akane beamed at her. That gave Yumi a surge of confidence, like a flower rising high into the sky. One of the attendants had stayed, and this woman nodded thoughtfully and seemed approving as well.
Behind the two of them, Painter stood up straight, gawking at her.
He probably thought she looked silly, as he knew the type of clothing she should be wearing.
“That is wonderful,” Akane said. “We’re getting that one for sure.
But here, try on the others! You have to see this pink one…”
Akane stepped in and dug through the dresses to find a specific choice. Yumi raised her chin and met Painter’s eyes. He was still staring at her. Well, for once she didn’t care if she looked improper.
The spirits had demanded a lot of her these last few days.
It was blasphemous, but she had decided it was time for her to demand something in return. She wanted possessions for the first time in her life. So it was that an hour later, she trotted out of the store wearing the blue dress and clutching a package containing two other outfits of slightly different styles. Hers. Actually hers. Granted, she wouldn’t be able to bring them back to her land, where her life—once this was over—would go back to the way it always was.
For now, she got to live a dream. That almost made all of this chaos worth it. And as she walked home with Akane, she noticed something else. No one was staring at her anymore.
Painter had been right, she realized with amazement. No one here knew what she was. No one here cared. Now that she wasn’t dressed in such ridiculous clothing, now that she fit in, she was just…normal.
It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.
“All right,” Akane said, stopping outside the apartment building. “I need to get ready for work. The foreman throws a fit if I go painting in a miniskirt. You have food? Upstairs?”
“Um…” Yumi said. “Technically it counts as food.”
“Uh-huh. Come back to the lobby in ten minutes. I’m meeting friends for lunch before shift at a noodle shop nearby. You’ll join us.”
“I’m being too much of a burden,” Yumi said, lowering her head.
“You? A burden?” Akane laughed. “Please, Yumi. You’re not going to deny me the chance to show off my fashion pupil to my friends, are you?”
Nearby, Painter was shaking his head urgently. That, mixed with her growling stomach, was the decider.
“Of course I’ll go with you,” Yumi said. “Let me go drop these things off at my brother’s room.”
