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.