Chapter 72: Operation: Tsundere Makeover

"No."

"Aoi-chan, please!"

"I said no. I am not wearing that. It is... pink."

"It is salmon!" Rika insists, holding up a frilly, lacey dress that looks like it belongs on a doll. "We have to look respectable! We are crashing the Imperial Cherry Blossom Festival, not a punk concert!"

We are in my room. It is Thursday night. The "war" is tomorrow.

Hiroto, using his agency's limitless power (and probably blackmail), has secured five "Level-C" press passes for "Suzume Hiroto and his documentary film crew."

Which means... we have to look the part.

"I am the director!" Hiroto announces, modeling a very serious-looking black turtleneck. "Daiki, you are my cameraman. You will be in charge of capturing the narrative. Here." He throws a professional-grade camera at Daiki, who catches it with a grunt.

"I do not do cameras," Daiki mutters.

"You do now," Hiroto says. "Rika, you are my sound engineer!" He hands her a boom microphone. "You look adorable holding it."

"And Toujo?" I ask.

"I," Toujo says, striking a pose, "am the Key Grip. I carry... the... grips?"

"You are carrying the tripod," Hiroto sighs. "And do not call yourself 'The Distraction'. You are background support."

"I am The Distraction," Toujo whispers to himself, practicing a lunge.

"And Aoi-chan," Rika says, turning back to me with the awful dress. "You are the interviewer. You have to look... soft. Non-threatening."

"I am threatening," I growl. "That is the point."

"No!" Hiroto and Rika shout at the same time.

"Angel, you cannot walk in there looking like 'Bloody Twilight'," Hiroto explains, pacing. "They will 'tackle' you before you get ten feet. You must be the innocent commoner. The pure-hearted girl who stole the prince's heart. You must be... moe."

"I am not moe!" I yell, throwing a pillow at him. "I am going as 'me'!"

"Aoi-chan, 'me' is scary," Rika says gently. "We need sweet. Sweet gets past security."

I look at the dress. I look at my closet. My beautiful, perfect closet. Full of black hoodies, ripped jeans, and band t-shirts.

This is a nightmare.

"Fine," I sigh. "No pink."

Rika beams.

...

One hour later, I look in the mirror.

I am... disgusted.

I am not wearing the dress. We "compromised."

I am wearing a simple, dark blue skirt. It goes past my knees. I am wearing a white, button-up blouse. It is buttoned all the way up. Rika has forced my hair into a... a... polite ponytail.

I look like a librarian.

"You look perfect!" Rika claps.

"You look approachable!" Hiroto cries. "The audience will love you!"

"You look... weird," Toujo says. "Where is Aoi?"

"I am right here," I growl.

I bend down and pull my combat boots out from under my bed.

"Aoi-chan, NO!" Rika shrieks. "You have to wear the flats!"

"I am not wearing flats," I say, lacing up my boots. "I am not wearing pink. And I am not going in without my armor."

I stand up.

The polite librarian, from the ankles up.

Bloody Twilight, from the ankles down.

"It... ruins the costume!" Hiroto wails.

"It is not a costume," I say, grabbing my school blazer. I put it on over the blouse.

"What are you doing? That is our uniform!" Rika gasps.

"Exactly," I say.

I look in the mirror.

Blue skirt. White blouse. School blazer. Combat boots.

"He knew me as a student," I say. "He knew me as his rival in this uniform. When he sees me... he will see me."

Daiki, who has been silent this whole time, lowers the camera he is practicing with.

He looks at me. Really looks at me.

"It works," he says quietly. "It is... her. But... formal. The Crown Prince will hate it. It is perfect."

I smirk. "Good."

"Okay, team!" Hiroto shouts, getting into character. "We have the plan. We have the costumes. We have the plot. Tomorrow... we make television history."