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According to the other girls of the Special Defense Unit, every girl dreams of being a princess. She yearns for the prince that will save her, the dresses that flow behind her like a materialised sea of dreams, leaving foam in the shape of pearls and sequins and glittery hearts, and she gets to just sit and look pretty everyday… For a girl shrouded in angel’s feathers dipped in black and a purse full of stones, Kako couldn’t quite say she agreed. She’d found it fascinating to hear the others talk of their dreams, though.
The strong Moko Mojiro, who would pepper Kako’s face in light pinks and purples as she whistled her tune of love, yearned for a day that even she could be the dainty princess in the arms of a prince. Her strength was feminine, as she often reminded the men around her, but that didn’t mean tradition didn’t sway her.
The sweet Tsubasa Kawana, a girl who taught Kako how to tighten screws on a work-in-progress detective’s scooter—the Gift-o-Matic had one, but according to her, making it by hand made it feel ‘like your baby’ and would connect her to her father—wrote poetry about royalty and princesses. She wanted to be someone’s number one. An eternity in the arms of a sweet boy, who knew her flaws and embraced them, without shame or subjugation of her interests.
Even the humble Nozomi Kirifuji seemed to swirl and cheer in dresses that Gaku begged her to model - genuine, honest patchwork that matched her favourite colours danced along the skirt in a pattern that made the homeliness ‘chic’ (according to Ima) - as she spoke of a world beyond her. Allegedly, Gaku had crudely gone around asking for measurements without explanations, and promptly got boiled alive by Moko and Kurara. Whether or not that recount was hyperbole is up to interpretation. However, Ima said they totally did it, and Kako found that her heart quivered at a morbid curiosity to witness such a feat. However, it turned out there had been genuine intrigue on Gaku’s behalf. Born of a light morning conversation with Takumi, jokes danced across the cafeteria that they should have a prom before the final showdown with V’ehxness.
If we graduate, he reasoned, shouldn’t it be fair that we kind of celebrate our school days?
Thus, Kako had been perched awkwardly in the Rec Room, listening to her brother and Gaku bicker about a multitude of things. Even the chair she’d been assigned to wished to join in. Its chilly, barely cushioned frays were sticking to her thighs despite her best effort to sit on her hands, and she deeply begrudged being born with skin at all for a moment. Any agonies were swiftly interjected by the blade that were her dear brother’s words.
“I’m telling you, Maruko-senpai,” he clasped his chest, eyes ablaze with wrath thinly concealed by a wry smile stretched like slit skin, “my dear little sister deserves nothing but the best! And the best, in my humble view, means you stay far, far away from her! How am I meant to know where those hands have been, hm?”
“I promise you, I haven’t done anything to-” he slapped his hand over his mouth so hard that his hat attempted to jump ship. “Ever. I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s a ball? A testicle? I was too poor for sex ed! I know nothing! Leave me alone!”
Ima crossed his arms and turned his back. Perhaps he thought that would conceal the bulging vein, peeking out just beyond the gap in his thick bangs, which beat to the tune of Gaku’s heart’s last moments. “Do you have any care, any mind, to not talk about such things with Kako present, Maruko-senpai? Must I remind you what I have on my person?”
“Yes, sir, three bags full, sir!” A faux salute temporarily thawed the tension, though Kako still wondered how long it would be until the Revive-o-Matic was triggered. “Anyway, I would never ask to measure Kako myself! I genuinely, honestly was just asking you for her size so I could make something-”
“And you think she deserves something made of your peasant hands?”
“You literally grew up poor too, man! Fuck did I do to deserve the peasant label?!” Head in hands, Kako wondered if this was the breaking point for Gaku. Ima had stepped back in a lot of ways, but naturally, the resident pervert (well, the one who doesn’t know he’s bisexual) asking for the youngest girl’s measurements seemed to summon Ima like invader cannon fodder. The two had only wanted to play a game of cards. Kako’s eyes glazed upon her near-victory, one she’d wrangled out of Ima with their pinky promise of equality, and sighed.
Someone had to intervene, but in all honesty, she didn’t know what she wanted here. She loved the premise of going to a ‘prom’ and having fun with everyone, but she’d never dreamed of being a princess. That wasn’t a world that had been available to a girl like her. Though her father’s dearest princess, when it came to yearning for the dresses and the tiaras, her ‘inaccessible dream world’ had simply been a happy life where he was there to see her wear a fancy dress of her own. Instead, her eyes darted between her brother and the boy desperate to play brother, uncertain as to what card to play here. Her thoughts were interjected by Ima, who seemed to have temporarily developed psychic understanding. “Kako! Not that I’m letting him-” he said the word with such venom, she wondered if his tongue would rot and fall off, “be the one to make it all, but… if you could have a prom dress, what would you want?”
Her hands rose to the side of her head, clasping her temples to plead thoughts to arise. “Um…”
“Hey, Kako, there’s no pressure-”
Ima raised a finger, face still and carefully measured. “Silence, or I’ll get Omokage-senpai to teach me exactly how to do sex reassignment surgery, just to give you enough gender dysphoria that’ll make the Revive-o-Matic give up on you.”
Gaku wailed with a face as white as the bow on Kako’s chest, “WHY ARE YOUR THREATS SO HYPERSPECIFIC? ARE YOU ONE OF THE EGGS YAKUSHIJI CRACKED?!”
Pretending as if his ears had clogged up, Ima picked at his pierced ear lobe for a second before smiling at his sister. Though it didn’t reach his eyes, it seemed… warm. He genuinely cared what she thought and wanted. Equal affection was alien to this fallen angel, his wings forever drenched in the colour of sins life forced him towards and ridiculed him for, but he tried—after all, she was the only girl around with a halo even remotely like his, and he was determined to maintain its shine. “Kako, if you could have a dress, or a prom night at all, what would you want?”
She lowered her hands to her lap, face eerily warm. “I’d… want to go with yo-”
“EXCUSE ME?!” Unable to let a girl explain her nuance, Gaku immediately jumped to the worst case scenario, and in turn prompted Ima to jump for his Infuser. “Wait, wait, plea-”
“I don’t mean it like a couple! But, you are the most important person to me, Ima… so we’d go together, right? As brother and sister?” Her eyes glanced to the floor. Saying it out loud, given all she’d heard about how princesses seek their most important love in the hands of a romantic prince, her thoughts made her skin crawl with momentary fear. Ima’s love could be overbearing. To an observer, it seemed suppressive, suffocating. For a while, maybe it was. But the two had each other when no other did. Their halos glowed the same hue, tinted like them and their parent’s hair colour of a pastel pink, and they reached for each other when the night grew too dark or the world grew too heavy to burden on one’s shoulders now. They both reached for each other. Now, Ima would lean on her too, just as he would let her rest on his arms and be cradled like family knew best.
Kako Tsukumo did not dream of being a princess, but her brother had been her most faithful prince, and she wanted to honour that. To dance with him, to laugh with him, so if one of them broke the promise and died together… well, at least one would have the fondest memories, rather than an illusion born of protection which neither truly knew in a world so cruel.
“Are you… saying I’m your prince…?” Tears tickled at the edges of Ima’s eyes, stinging at the illusion of competence. Careful craft and gentle strokes of a makeup brush could not mask that his eyeliner trickled down his pale cheeks, the juxtaposition of black against white like their angel motifs, and how his bottom lip trembled so gently. He leaned down onto one knee, his hand on Kako’s leg, and tried to dab his face with his sleeve. “Well… I suppose I can’t argue with the princess herself…”
“You will dance with me, right?”
Snot and spit spewed out of his sorrow as he replied, “Of course!” He leapt up and tangled Kako in his embrace. His skinny arms seemed to scramble around her equally small figure, until his firm yet soft hands patted her back, years of pain and strife concealed by the gentle hand creams that Hiruko had recommended to him after a fight. Kako returned the hug with an awkward sway. She pretended that she couldn’t feel her shoulder getting damp, or that his little ‘hoos’ and ‘waas’ weren’t digging into her temples like a piercing blade. “I’d… hoo… I’d be honoured…”
“Is that your attempt at pretending you’re not crying, Ima?” Gaku held his hands on his hips and tried to chuckle his ridicule away, eyes slightly glazed over by tears he hadn’t quite swiped away yet. “It’s okay to cry, you know. All big brothers cry!”
“And who invited you to this family, orphan?”
“Do I- ARE YOUR PARENTS NOT DEAD?!” His screams reached the roof, triggering a vacant, piercing stare from Ima. The lighting favoured him as it cast a shadow over his eyes, concealing his eyes in the Underworld’s greatest frustrations.
Slowly, he spat, “Do you know the word decorum? Do you know how dear our father was to Kako? Do y-”
Hands raised in the air, Gaku squealed, “I’M SORRYYYY!”
Kako never quite got to give her ideas to Gaku.
However, that night, she sat in the Cafeteria with some of the girls. Oh, and Yugamu, because he accidentally walked in and nobody questioned it; Kako liked Yugamu, sometimes, when he wasn’t getting hot and heavy about bodily functions. They all chatted amongst themselves about this ‘fated prom’ (and their hate of Gaku), while Kako scribbled on a piece of paper. She prayed her labelled colours and the descriptions on the back would make up for her children’s scribbles - art wasn’t exactly encouraged when she lived on the street. But, when she took notes about detective research, she would always draw little cats in the corner of the page. So at least she could draw cats! Part of her had considered drawing her and Ima as cats, but that would get even more confusing for a man with little brain to begin with, considering he randomly shouted about her dead parents. The wound had mostly healed, but wow, it certainly wasn’t his best big brother moment.
Perched next to her with a plate of curry, Nozomi mumbled, “What’s that, Kako-chan?”
“Mine and Ima’s prom outfits,” her words emerged monotonously focused. All her senses were dedicated to getting the flow of this skirt right, no matter how the callouses on her hand started to boil.
“Oh? Are you two going together, then?” Nozomi smiled. She had a really sweet smile, Kako thought. It suited her pretty face, all rounded and nice, no matter how it made her feel like a child to observe her like that. Though she and Ima weren’t so different in age to the rest of the unit, there seemed to be a gap in their maturity, even despite Ima’s forced adultification from his ‘jobs’. At least, that’s how Kako viewed it. Maybe part of her just liked being protected by strong women for a change, because she could then grow up to copy them and be that same heroine for all the girls who needed it the way she did. “That’s so cute! I really like the shape of the dress, you know.”
“Thank you…” she glanced back at her own work for a moment. Despite its scratchy, shaky outline, the general shape and focus of each outfit was clear enough. With her signature pigtails twirling down her side, Kako’s head had been adorned with a bow that framed the top of her head like a tiara would, carefully finished with a deep pink crystal that brought out the softness of her hair. It complimented a floral arrangement on her chest—apparently Gaku knew flower language, so he could probably pick something nice—which was purposefully coloured darker than her dress. It danced down her small stick figure self, her chest protected by a high neckline that reminded her of the standing collars seen on fancy shirts, and with meticulously swirled threads down the front to allow for slightly different shades of pink. She had put her all into the skirt. It flowed in various layers, just like a real princess, and she had purposefully modelled it after a rose’s petal. Roses were pretty and they resembled love. Surely there was a rose of family love? Either way, she had just added the finishing touch of two sleeves, slightly pointing outwards at the top of her arms, and she smiled sheepishly at her hard work. “I did my best, but I’m not much of an artist…”
“Are you kidding?! This and the outfit for Ima-kun are so well drawn! Even Maruko-kun could make something out of this!” Following Nozomi’s finger, Kako stared at her scribble of her brother. He would likely frame this if he found out about this, but she hoped it would stay a secret - for so long, he decided what they both wore, and how they both wore it. She wanted this to be her choice for once, as she was the princess in charge here! Wearing a cape-like silk with an actual standing collar over his arms, like the Prince of the Underworld would like most, he resembled true royalty. Yellow flowers danced across his breast in the shape of a broach as the finery beneath his cape slightly hung over him, the buttons the same colour as the outlines of his matching collar. White trousers were tucked into knee-high boots, matching the same blue as his whole outfit, and he looked very cute to Kako.
Of course, whether or not he would agree was another thing entirely. “I… hope he keeps it a secret.”
“Does Ima-kun not know?” Nozomi tilted her head.
“No… but if we don’t have a battle in the next few days, my commission should be ready, right? And then Brother Dea- Ima will be so surprised!” She chuckled to herself as she folded the paper in half, the notes she’d fussed over in her head outlined on the back. Though she didn’t know all the right terms for fashion, she hoped Gaku would get what she meant, or at least work with her vision. “So I’m gonna go post this under his door! See you later!”
“Bye bye, Kako-chan!” As soon as Nozomi waved, the Cafeteria door swung behind her. Everyone watched and waited for the door to shut.
As it did, Moko broke the silence. “Those siblings make my heart hurt… they’re just so cute…”
“We lucked out, having two cute twins to watch cherish each other so, hm?” Yugamu replied.
Meanwhile, Kako leaned down near Gaku’s door, and shoved her note as far as the wind would take it into the carpet. As she gently tiptoed down the metal steps, the red rust slightly damp from a previous bout of rain, Gaku swung the door open. “Oi, Kako.”
“Ah, not so loud-”
“Thanks for trusting me with this,” he smiled. This one reached his eyes, and his voice was strangely soft. For a moment, Kako knew what those kids from his orphanage must have felt when they dealt with him, despite all his blow ups and inappropriate comments (in both insensitive and age-rated ways). “I’ll do my best, okay?”
“You better, or I’ll get Brother Dearest to stab you.”
“H… hey… you’re joking… right?” Kako continued to walk down the steps and into the darkness. “RIGHT?”
It wasn’t as if Kako had been counting, but after a week of restless nights, the night had arrived. Per an additional note on the back of the commission sheet - drag Ima to get ready with the guys, please - Ima had been slung over Takemaru’s shoulder kicking and screaming to go get dressed in Takumi’s room. Apparently, his room had the least amount of stuff in the way, and everyone else took offense to that. Including Takumi.
Similarly, Hiruko had her room offered up by an eager Nozomi, who had offered to help Kako with her dress. She chuckled as she adjusted Kako’s sleeves for her, “I’m impressed at this handyman work from Maruko-kun, honestly.”
“I didn’t think he’d know what my drawing meant…” like how Kako had envisioned it—before the pencil failed her, obviously—Gaku had gotten all the details of her outfit perfect. He hadn’t left his room in days, though. Yugamu had been ordered to deliver meals, in case he’s doing anything untoward, and always came back with a smug grin on his face. For once, Kako couldn’t determine if that was a smug grin of perversion, or of being in on the secret of how everybody would be dressed. It could be either when those two were left alone in a room. Not that Ima liked Kako lightly asking people about those kinds of things… sometimes, she swore she made dumb dirty jokes just to get on Ima’s nerves. “I’m really really happy, though.”
“You should be!” Nozomi pulled away and twirled her finger, ushering Kako to twirl for everyone. Even Hiruko chuckled a little at the glee that lit up Kako’s face like a firework, a plethora of colours all reflected in her wide eyes. “I’m sure you two will have lots and lots of fun together!”
“Yeah…!”
Despite her enthusiasm during the ‘dress rehearsal’, Kako’s nerves bubbled against the lining of her stomach as she crouched outside of the Gym door. Each person had a ‘date’ - some assigned, some chosen, with no sex-based prejudice - that had to pick them up, depending on who had been dubbed the princess. Crouched next to her was Yugamu, whose most noticeable detail to the little Tsukumo was how he made his eyepatch slightly more formal for the occasion. She was tempted to ask how many of those he had, but she worried she might hit a nerve if it was a medical thing—similarly, she decided against asking Tsubasa for a sick bag, even though her mouth watered to mock her previous mood.
Instead, she leaned her head slightly against his shoulder, and asked, “Who are you waiting for?”
“Who do you think? The man who set this up, and yet wouldn’t be asked by anyone else,” to that, his face warmed up slightly, and Kako wondered how hot a face would have to be to set someone’s hairspray alight. She wasn’t willing to risk it.
So, she sat up, and replied. “Can I borrow him for… about 5 minutes, then?”
“Can I ask why? I thought you two little cuties didn’t like him much,” Yugamu’s tone softened at the word ‘cuties’, as if even an assassin’s heart could melt at sibling love. Perhaps that was what drew him to Gaku. Or, perhaps that was what had him so giddy… so, not perversion, not a preview of the outfits, but a secret third option of just having a date? The mind of an inherent romantic fascinated Kako, but as she’d reasoned with herself long ago, she’d be happy if she never had a true ‘romance’. Family and the friends she’d made here were enough to keep her smiling.
“Well…” a buzz of chatter from around the corner grew louder, and Kako pushed herself to stand, following the noise. “You’ll see.” As she poked her head around the corner of the hallway, the two boys jumped, both smacking their hands to their chests in shock. Gaku’s gaze darted between the two twins, as Ima’s remained firmly on her. His eyes widened. If the solar system could be minimized and captured in one’s irises, he would have always hosted such brightness, making all other galaxies ashamed of how little stars they truly hosted within them. His eyes danced across the details of her outfit, how they mirrored each other, and finally, at his dear little sister’s face.
Then, he threw himself forward, embracing her in the tightest hug the two had ever shared. This time, he didn’t mask how he babbled and cried, for he wanted the whole world to see how proud he was of his little Kako. “Sister Dearest…!” The two swayed each other side to side.
Kako gently patted his back. “You look amazing, Ima.”
“This was your genius, wasn’t it?!” He pulled away from the hug, eyes red and puffy, and grinned. “I love it! I even stole the commission sheet off of Gaku and framed it for myself!”
“Yeah, I tried to stop him, but… little guy’s got a knife, even with this outfit, and I didn’t fancy getting my hard work all bloodied…” Gaku scratched the back of his neck. He, too, had made an effort, and his outfit complimented Yugamu’s nicely. It seemed he’d taken the (likely) pity invite to heart and tried to make the two harmoniously tied together… as Ima had theorised for a while, perhaps this would be Gaku’s bisexual awakening.
Either way, Kako had to dive in and finish her mission first. Preparing the outfits was only half of the excitement; promises had been made, and promises had to be kept. “Follow me, you two!” Her hands gripped their gloved ones, dragging the two boys behind her as she beelined for the door. At the sound of her heels clicking against the floor, Yugamu leapt up and opened the door with a curtsy, to which Kako beamed back.
“Where are we-” Gaku’s interrogation was halted by a detective’s intuition. Notably, that meant flinging him in front of her, with Ima in tow. “What are you playing at, Kako?”
“Take my hands,” she outstretched both of them to the cue of her words, to which both boys sheepishly obliged. She had just been holding them, after all. “Now, you two hold hands.”
“Huh?”
“We’re going to dance, right? I wanted to include you, Maruko-senpai, as you fulfilled my request. That means you can both be princes for five minutes!” The two boys shared a glance, and then took each other’s hands—Ima must have thought he hid his reflex of a gag really well, but as Kako giggled at it, a single tear rolled down Gaku’s cheek. She squeezed both of their hands as she began to step to her side again and again. The two boys, a temporary brother and her eternal prince, took a second before mimicking her.
It may have not been regal dancing, but as the three spun around and their laughter blurred into one, Kako realised why young girls dreamed of being princesses just like this.