Ninjas of Love

I Have No Idea About Fashion, I Only Watch Eugenia A Bit

The six students passed through the white, metallic door to Kool Klothes Klub in single file, as any wider group would have been unable to fit through the standard-width door (standard for an interior door, anyway) without removing their outward limbs, and- to be perfectly honest with you, reader- none of them wanted not really needed to do that. Charlie walked alongside his peers once in the store, perusing the wide variety- a strangely wide variety- of white bodysuits with eyes crudely cut into them.

After a little while of navigating the labyrinthine shop floor, they found the men's section- where three quarters of Team BECK could find outfits (this raised to four quarters if you were the barista in the coffee shop). "Ruby?" Charlie asked, hoping for help from a girl who was not his teammate per se but was near enough to that position. "Yes?" Ruby replied dutifully, hoping to help her strange faux-American friend with whatever fashion advice it was he needed. "How do you have so many versions of the same outfit?" Charlie's question was very much tongue-in-cheek but that's not to say that he didn't want the answer. "Well, what is it you want to wear?"
"I was looking, actually, at these Dalvin Dlein jeans."
"It's simple really. Want me to show you the secret?" Ruby asked, quietly enough for Charlie to believe that she may have a magic plan for his request. He nodded, half-excited yet half-shitting himself in fear. In one fell swoop, she took all nine pairs of the jeans off the rack and dumped them into the trolley that Yang had affixed to Emily's wheelchair. "Wow!" As sarcastic as Charlie's outburst may have sounded to the unassuming passer-by, he was entirely serious and stunned as to just how he hadn't realised how to execute such a simple idea.

Kerian had, thanks to throwing away the vast majority of his share of the money on alcohol and a vastly overpriced scroll, had to settle for a set of cheap skateboarding elbow and knee protectors, a plastic, grey cycle helmet, and a classic, Slav-approved, 10 Lien, bright orange tracksuit. Billy fared a little better, being able to pick out a multitude of different tracksuit tops and jeans- as well as some t-shirts, the weirdest of which was clearly some form of Menageriese knockoff, as it bore the name of the well-known Bacon Academy- and a pair of Slaginya trainers.

After placing the veritable cavalcade of items into a now very nearly full trolley, the six hunters and huntresses-to-be went on another arduous, torturous mission through the tortuous corridors of the shop. It was perfectly reasonable to assume, Emily thought, that one could be walking through this shop to find some sexy undergarments or lingerie and then never be seen again by their loved ones. After this morbid and- in all honesty- bizarre and twisted train of thought had subsided, she realised she was confronted with what was effectively a technicolour ejaculation over all sorts and forms of fabric, forming skirts, dresses, shirts and pretty much anything else that could physically attach to the body (and some that likely couldn't unless you were Eugenia Cooney levels of thin) over a seemingly infinite amount of space. She looked around, scared and amazed at the array of outfits available in every hue and shade imaginable. She then grabbed a black t-shirt from the bottom shelf directly in front of her, which bore the logo and name of Valish singer Johnny Lien, before putting it in (or mostly atop) the trolley. "It's nice!" Yang said, with a smile. "But how would you fancy a makeover from your beloved Yang?"