GIMME THE MOST COLOFUL CLOTHES STAT! (Yuki!)

YUKIS' PROBLEMS BEGAN WHEN HE told Hana that he hadn’t worn any of the clothes she’d given him last week. They were supposed to go to Akihabara for the manga and video games—it was supposed to be a mecca for nerd-ly needs. But no! Tell one of your only friends that you hadn’t worn her too-small clothes, and suddenly you’re dressing-up as a girl and getting hauled to Akihabara for clothes. Who the fuck went there for clothes?!

One outfit-change, some minor hair-styling, and a brief train ride later, and Yuki was being pulled by their arm down the streets of Akihabara.

“Hana, what if someone sees us?!” Yuki groaned through grit teeth, getting dragged along by their arm, “And can you slow down? I’m not wearing pants, If feel... exposed..”

“We’re supposed to be seen Yuki-chan,” Hana had retorted with a fox-like grin, “Besides, you’re wearing Spanx. Those are basically pants. Now, come on. You are not wearing my hand-me-downs to a party.”

“Party?” the shapeshifter echoed thinly.

Hana didn’t stop to answer, for at that moment, she spied the very store that she’d been looking for. “Ah, over here! Come on!”

The shifter was jerked towards the front door, nearly stumbling up the steps. It was one of those metropolitan stores with one English word in their name—Ame Clubwear. The mannequins in the windows were taller than your average Japanese woman, and thinner than basically anyone, and in clothes that no polite person would deign to wear—all mesh and revealing and wildly inappropriate.

That didn’t stop a robust girl like Hana from barreling through the door like freight train.

Once through the doors, Hana released Yuki’s gloved hand, beckoning for them to follow. Yuki lingered in the doorway, tugging at the hem of the large hoodie and the short tank-dress that it covered. When they realized Hana wasn’t returning, they reluctantly followed.

“What party?” the shifter-child repeated, still tugging at the hem.

Hana slapped his hand.

“Stop fussing with it, you look great—it’s our debut party. As high schoolers! This Friday! Just say you’re staying over at, uh… Natsu’s house.”

“We’re in junior high…”

“They don’t need to know that—how about this?”

Hana held-up a short dress with a gaping hole around the belly button area. Yuki shook their head. The dress was released so that it fluttered back into place on the rack, flitting away excitedly. Yuki followed, letting their gaze drop to their shoes. They still couldn’t shake the feeling that dressing like a girl in public made them some kind of deviant. And being in a store like this made it even worse.

The bell above the door chimed, and Yuki lifted their gaze to assess the person who’d come in. What kind of person—besides Hana, who clearly had a sadistic streak—shopped in a place like this?

Tall, inhumanly tall. Whitish-pink all over. Glamorous. If ever there was a real-world equivalent of the Fae present in Yuki's reading material, this woman* would be their queen. Compared to Yuki’s deathly pallor, this mutant freaking glowed. Maybe it was just the lights though?

Hana was too busy with the rack of clothes behind them, which afforded her introverted companion some time to stare.

ft. takara kubo

quirk: e-rank disguise, psychometry, stamina; f-rank regeneration, durability

ooc notes: yuki's outfit for this thread can be found here <3, also

* yuki assumes that takara is a woman, and an inhumanly pretty one. heheeeee

SO YUKI STARED, HARDCORE. Call it the Curse of the Quiet Kid, alright? This person was ridiculously tall. Like, duck through the doorway to step inside, tall. And they had more arms than normal. Like a bug? A spider? But they were fluffy, if the way the light hit them was anything to go by. And while Yuki was standing there gawking like an idiot, the Fairy Queen™ took notice of their observer. And oh shit now they were talking to him.

As soon as the woman called-out to them, Yuki’s shoulders stiffened, and he began to tug at a strand of hair that hadn’t been wrangled into the stupid pigtails that Hana had given them. His gaze dropped towards the floor, heavily, and he resumed the awkward, tugging at the hem of the hoodie.

Their face felt hot, and they could tell by the proximity of the voice and the presence of another pair of feet in their periphery that the Fairy Queen was closer now. Yuki reluctantly lifted their gaze when the Fairy Queen spoke again, unable to keep their attention on their shoes for long. She was fussing over Yuki’s attire, and ready to make adjustments to the look that they had going.

Their eyes burbled from red to yellow-orange to yellow and then lingered somewhere in that range, no one color dominating for very long.

“O-okay,” Yuki agreed, clearly a little star-struck and flustered, “Thank you. I uh… you can… thank my friend Hana. She, uh… picked the outfit. I’m just her… ah, her guinea pig. Hana-“

Their voice came-out as a mumble. And given how tenor and youthful their voice was, it wasn’t clear what gender they were from that alone Hana was… out of earshot. At least when it came to mumbles. Yuki focused on the woman before him, trying to chase the heat from his face, and stand still. Practiced hands worked over the outfit, adjusting how the hoodie hung around the teen, pulling the zipper down even more than it already was. It was… kind-of wild, being primped and preened with more than one pair of hands.

After some adjustment, the Fairy Queen stepped back and seemed satisfied with her work—which she stepped back to survey. Yuki tried to muster a polite smile and a word of thanks for their… what was it… goodwill? But it was about that time that Hana finally notice that their “guinea pig” was missing. The words that left her mouth, however, were wholly unexpected.

“Oh. My. GOD!” she gasped, flitting back towards the unusual pair, “You’re Sugar Pink!”

“Ha-na!” Yuki hissed, assuming she meant their appearance. The girl was not the most tactful, so announcing someone’s quirk for the world to hear was not completely out-of-character.

“They are! Sugar Pink, from Instasnap! I follow them!” Hana retorted, petulant, before returning to the woman before them, “They're like… famous! Wow, you’re even more beautiful in person! Mx Sugar Pink, is my friend bothering you?”

Yuki’s eyes went from orange, to yellow, to yellow-green, a sense of dread washing over them. No, not bothering them—they’d come over on their own. Although… perhaps they’d only come over because the shapeshifter was staring.

“Sugar Pink, I’m Hana Hashimoto, and this is my friend Yuki,” Hana insisted, “He’s a mutant, just like you! We’re looking for cute party clothes for a party we’re going to Friday… you know fashion. What would you recommend?”

See? No tact. What more, Hana had introduced Yuki as a him… so Fairy Queen Sugar Pink would know that they were some kind of deviant. The realization twisted the fourteen-year-old’s stomach. Also, to be outed as a mutant when their mutation was usually subtle to most… man, it was a good thing Hana was one of their only friends.

Yuki’s eyes settled on a annoyed brown, that only a periodic flicker of yellow-orange managed to seep through.

“Nice to meet you, Mx Sugar Pink,” the teen with the two-tone hair mustered, wishing the floor would swallow them whole.

ft. takara kubo

quirk: e-rank disguise, psychometry, stamina; f-rank regeneration, durability

ooc notes: give hana a break-- what she lacks in tact, she makes up for in raw enthusiasm.

THE SHIFTER WAS TOTALLY SMITTEN. Just… wow. Sugar Pink was one of those people who just filled the room, you know? With their presence. Yuki doubted it was just a height thing or a mutation thing. The way they carried themselves was larger than life, too. Like they were brimming with energy that their slender form just couldn’t contain. The shifter child felt like they almost had to squint at them to see them clearly.

When Sugar Pink turned Yuki’s bashful greeting into their own word of thanks, a rare (albeit timid) smile graced the teen’s features. Thank Yuki for “putting-up” with them?

“Nothing to put up with,” the shapeshifter said briefly, their tone earnest. Had they been any braver, Yuki might have even insisted that they liked the attention. But Yuki wasn’t that brave. They were simply polite enough to not want Sugar Pink to think that they were inconvenienced by their presence. Once Hana descended into the conversation in her usual whirlwind fashion, Yuki took the conversational backseat, taking-in the store from the safety of momentary silence. They wrung their hands together, tugging at the fabric of their fingerless gloves, trying not to disturb the outfit that Sugar Pink had just painstakingly repaired.

They might’ve spaced-out a bit—out of necessity, really—and when they got pulled back into the conversation, it was because Hana had grabbed their hand and was shaking it eagerly.

“Yuki you’ve got to do this,” Hana insisted, “It’s a once in a lifetime experience.”

The shapeshifter inclined their head, clearly lost on the conversation, “Got to… do… what now?”

They glanced from Hana to Sugar Pink, who waggled their phone with implication. The camera app was out.

“Mx Sugar Pink is gonna help with your look!” Hana reiterated, “In exchange for a selfie! You’ll be, like, Instasnap famous.”

If anyone wanted to garner a sort of reputation-by-association, that might’ve held an appeal. But Yuki, who was so used to sticking to the periphery, was not exactly jumping at the opportunity.

But… to decline would mean that the fairy queen would just walk away, and their moment of crossing paths would be over. And wouldn’t that be sad?

“Sure,” Yuki finally agreed, nodding their head, “It could be fun.”

Hana seemed ecstatic. She clapped her hands in delight, giving a few excited bounces before turning to Sugar Pink for directions.

“Where should I concentrate my efforts, Mx Sugar Pink?” Hana demanded, adopting a tone with which a crewmate might address a captain, “Accessories? Bags? What look are we going for?”

The brown in Yuki’s eyes had again tiptoed towards yellow, with flickers of goldenrod and spring-green.

ft. takara kubo

quirk: e-rank disguise, psychometry, stamina; f-rank regeneration, durability

ooc notes: thank goodness this little introvert comes with a complimentary mouthpiece. behold, hana, the unwitting wing-woman.

THE TEEN WITH THE TWO-TONE HAIR was tentatively optimistic. But perhaps their tendency to be subdued in the face of unfamiliar people or situations made them seem ungrateful? They couldn’t be more than what they were, though… just… ever-cautious, but generally positive. Which, for a pragmatist like Yuki, was still something.

A hand caught Yuki’s chin and Yuki gave a bewildered look at Mx Sugar Pink, a tint of rose coloring their cheeks. Their regal air, mode of dress, and mutation combined made it impossible to tell how old they were… but Yuki was smitten regardless. They were just so… ethereal?

Sugar Pink deferred to Yuki’s judgement, which really only made Yuki spin their wheels mentally. What style they wanted? None of this was their idea to begin with. They were just swept up in the tide of Hana’s—and now Sugar Pink’s—whims. But if they hadn’t wanted this… would they have agreed in the first place? If they’d insisted on taking a back seat, or just staying home, Hana probably could’ve been talked-down.

No, truth be told, adventures like these excited the teen. Their life was so humdrum when Yuki was left to their own devices, they needed people like Hana—like Sugar Pink—to keep things interesting.

Speaking of—the Fairy Queen drew impossibly close, looping one arm around the teen’s waist, their other arms fluttering into place. Ah, right, selfie—a pose, they needed to take a pose. A glamorous woman like Sugar Pink would have no trouble finding a pose, but… Yuki shied away from cameras, or attention in general. And the arm around their waist made their head feel like it was full of cotton.

Ultimately, the teen went for a peace-sign pose, fairly typical amongst kids their age—they talked their free arm (the one closest to Sugar Pink) behind the woman while keeping their hand politely hovered. Their peace-sign was flashed at the end of jutted elbow, so that the gesture lingered close to their eye.

Wait, was this the kind of picture you smiled for, or made a face at? They couldn’t turn their face to check Sugar Pink’s expression, as they were cheek-to-cheek, but… in their periphery, it didn’t seem like she was making weird faces…

So Yuki smiled mildly, their eyes alight with an unusual electric pink. Sugar Pink took a few, expert shots, then selected the best of the lot before handing the phone to Yuki and asking them to tag themselves.

“Yes ma’am,” the teen said softly, accepting the device. With their fingerless gloves on, touching something so personal wasn’t an issue. Their palms were protected, so there’d be no accidental shifts here.

Yuki’d made an Instasnap last year when they’d taken photography, to share their work… but hadn’t touched it much since. His father had very vocally disapproved of wasting two years on a visual arts class as an elective when only one was required. Ah well. So it only took a few tries to remember their name—ah, that’s right, they’d made it a play on words—YukiOrange. Because heaven forbid their parents found out that they still had an InstaSnap. After they @’d themselves, they were well prepared to surrender the phone, but Sugar Pink’s delighted proclamation startled them from their reverie—yes, hair accessories. Very well.

Yuki followed dutifully, offering the device with both hands. They’d only added their tag, but hadn’t posted the picture lest Sugar Pink wanted to add something else.

“For you,” they remarked gently. Once the phone was returned, they’d pocket their hands, peering curiously at the display before them.

“I… do… like cute, colorful things…” Yuki volunteered, trying their best to be helpful. It was about what they wanted after all, right? They’d much rather something cute, as opposed to risqué.

“Nothing crazy, though,” the introvert implored. Their eyes roved over floral headbands and enormous bows, fabric wraps and clips that looked like flamingos. Small plastic butterfly clips and—oh—huh, that was actually cute. Leave it to some place at the edge of Akihabara to have stuff like this. Yuki reluctantly clasped a cat-ear headband, accented in rhinestones. Without a word, they put it on their head, then looked at the pair that had accompanied them.

“Wh-what do you think? Catlike?” they inquired. As if just donning the headband wasn’t enough, Yuki raised their hands, curling their fingers into fists but bending their hands at the wrists, as if they were a cat holding up their paws, “Cute?”

ft. takara kubo

quirk: e-rank disguise, psychometry, stamina; f-rank regeneration, durability

ooc notes: in which a introverted gay baby tries to keep-up with two extroverts.

YUKI STOOD WITH HANDS DUTIFULLY CUPPED around the phone, smiling coyly as Sugar Pink sung in surprise, as if she’d forgotten her phone in the short time that it had left her hands. So excited that she’d forgotten her phone? Excited to help a jittery fourteen-year-old shop for party clothes?

The remark didn’t feel like one of those hollow nothing-statements, either—it felt like Sugar Pink actually meant what they said. But Yuki, ever the pragmatist, bashfully took the wind out of her sails.

“But you… just met me,” he remarked, feeling his cheeks flush slightly. Thankfully the accessories gave Yuki some respite from his embarrassment. At least until he glanced at Hana, who was not-so-subtly grinning in Yuki’s direction. While Sugar Pink fussed with her phone, Yuki mouthed the word “what?!” scrunching their brows.

Hana wiggled her eyebrows.

Yuki made a sour face, before perusing the racks and finding the cat-ear headband.

Sugar Pink’s delighted shriek at the sight of Yuki in cat-ears made the androgynous youth jump slightly, eyes flying wide. The cat-ear accessory sent Sugar Pink into a whirlwind of accessory-shopping, retrieving hairclips and a purse and all manner of things.

A flicker of spring-green ran through the shapeshifter’s eyes, accompanied by an almost-fuschia-pink as Mx. Sugar Pink began to work her magic. Nimble fingers affixed hairclips (not yet purchased, oh my god?!) to the teen’s two-tone hair, in a sort of haphazard and not at all practical manner at all. Yuki lifted their chin obediently, trying to remain stalk-still as the artist completed their work. Something about her proximity made the teen nervous, but… not in a bad way?

The ensemble was completed by draping a cute cat-handbag across Yuki’s chest, before stepping back to survey their work.

Yuki tugged at the strap of the purse, before tilting the body of the purse to look at it.

Their eyes were wide and delighted—flickering from fuchsia to yellow to yellow-green. Sugar Pink’s praise was met by a reluctant smile—but the expression quickly went bit wide-eyed when the fairy queen declared that she would help Yuki buy the accessories—all of the accessories.

“You’re too generous!” Yuki said quickly, bowing at the waist. First this Instasnap vision was kind enough to hang-out with giddy fourteen-/fifteen-year-old’s, and then she was offering to buy Yuki accessories?! They hadn’t even come in here for accessories, they were outfit shopping—though out of fear of having these purchased by the mutant woman, too, the youth did not correct her, “I couldn’t possibly ask that of you!”

Yukis’ parents were such hard-asses about “self-reliance”, the idea of a total stranger buying them clothes out of the goodness of their heart was absolutely mortifying.

Remaining bowed, the youth insisted, “You’ve already done so much, offering to help me.”

Their heart was still stuttering nervously in their chest when they stood upright again, their hands clasped in front of them. It was clear, despite their protests, that they were not as strong-willed as other people. If Sugar Pink insisted, Yuki would go along with it.

“What kind of outfit do you think would go well with those accessories, Mx. Sugar Pink?” Hana asked, ever shameless. Yuki hid his face in his hands, shooting Hana a look through his fingers.



Hana rapped her knuckles against the closed door of her bedroom, her voice rising.

“Come on, Yuki! I’m sure you look fine!! Open the door and let me see!”

“I feel like my butt’s hanging out of this skirt!” the strained voice cried through the door.

“It’s fiiiiine, let me seeeeee,” Hana whined. A sigh. A silhouette passed in front of the door, and it groaned faintly. Hana tried the door, “Hey, no leaning on the door! No fair!”

“… promise me you won’t freak-out on me? I… am trying something… different,” Yuki’s high, tenor voice drifted reluctantly through the door.

“Dude, promiiiiise,” Hana groaned, “Come on, you’re dressing in my hand-me-downs. Literally nothing could freak me out.”

There was a pause. And the door popped-open, a sliver of light spilled into the hall, and the shapeshifter stepped-out.

“Oh. My. Gosh. You look amazing. You have to let me put some makeup on you!!”



Hana had gotten the pair of them a ride with older kids from her Mom’s church. The pair had wedged themselves into the back of a mini-van, weathering the thrum of rap and other modern popular music and loud conversations. Something smelled like skunk, and it was probably the cigarette-type-thing that the boy in the passenger’s seat was smoking. Yuki wished they had a sleeve to breathe through—but there were no sleeves to speak-of, in this ensemble.

They wore a pair of thigh-high black stockings, beneath a lavender mini-skirt jumper and a black halter-tee. They wore a coordinating lavender choker with a metal heart in the middle, black canvas sneakers, and the rhinestone cat-ears with the myriad of plastic pins. In their lap, the cat-bag with the rainbow eyes. And over their hands, their usual, fingerless gloves.

What made Yuki’s appearance even more exceptional was their appearance beyond their outfit. Rather than their short, chin-length hair, their hair extended down to the small of their back in long, straight curtains. Their lips were stained lavender, and eye-shadow stained their eyes. Yuki was a pastel-goth vision, and she looked like an entirely different person altogether.

“You look great,” Hana whispered in Yuki’s ear, squeezing her knee.

Yuki quirked a smile, her eyes lingering somewhere in the neighborhood of orange or yellow.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a fish out of water.”

Hana leaned on Yuki’s shoulder, beaming from ear-to-ear.

“Loosen up! It’ll be fun!” Hana hissed, “If worse comes to worst, just like… find the drinks. It’ll take the edge off.”

Yuki puffed-out her cheeks, tilting her gaze out the window—yeah, sure.

The van slowed and banked into a long, gravel drive, towards a single-story house that was tucked back in a small grove of Japanese aspen. The house seemed dark, besides a porch light. But when the van was shut-off, the thrum of a bass became immediately apparent.

“You ready?”

“No.”

“Just stick with me, it’ll be fine!”

And they were out, crossing a small (perhaps strictly decorative) bridge towards the front door. The other members of the carpool went in without knocking, into a thick, hot fog that smelled of too many bodies, perfumes, inhalants. People were drinking, talking raucously, dancing. Living room gave way to den to kitchen/dining and family room. It was a nice place, totally trashed in the throes of a high-school party. Hardwood furniture with disposable cups tossed haphazardly onto it, credenza’s with scantily-dressed girls batting their eyes at boys in sports uniforms.

Hana must have found some drinks, because she thrust a can of something into Yuki’s gloved hands. There was no respite. Too many faces. Too many opportunities to brush up against someone. Bad idea, bad idea.

A cold breeze stirred against Yuki’s bare arm, and the teen lifted her gaze. An open door, to the backyard. Respite.

“I’m going outside,” Yuki insisted over the thump of the music, “Just need to… adjust slowly.”

She didn’t wait to see if Hana agreed. Hana loved shit like this—she thrived off of chaos. Just… not Yuki. The teen descended down a split-level deck, past excitedly-chattering groups of teens. She didn’t stop walking until she reached the side of an in-ground pool, where a few teens were swimming. Lounge chairs lined the pool. Perfect. Yuki plopped into an unoccupied seat. Breathing a heavy sigh.

Just find the drinks… it takes the edge off.

Yuki turned the can over in her hands. It was a hard seltzer, according to the can. Some alcohol. Cheers. She pulled the tab uncertainly, sniffing the fizzing beverage uncertainly before taking a swig. She would need to be a little tipsy to not be totally miserable at an event like this.

ft. SOMEONE

quirk: e-rank disguise, psychometry, stamina; f-rank regeneration, durability

ooc notes: yuki really likes the bag because it helped them smuggle a book to the party, shh-- hana has no idea.