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“Absolutely not,” is the first thing that Harukawa says.
Because absolutely not. There had been no way to predict what kind of clothing Chabashira would choose, but entering her dorm and seeing her wearing every piece of denim possible is far from anything anyone could have predicted. Certainly not Harukawa.
“Why not?” Chabashira’s face pulls into some kind of pout, and she adjusts an accessory in her hair-
Wait. “Did you seriously buy a denim bow, too.” The answer comes in the form of a nod, much too enthusiastic for Harukawa’s liking. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”
“What do you mean?” Chabashira shifts in place on denim sandals - who makes denim sandals? - and shoves her hands into the pockets of a denim jacket. “Tenko believes that it’s cute and funky!”
Cute. Funky.
Far from the words Harukawa would use to describe the abomination that is Chabashira’s denim jacket, over a denim shirt, with a denim skirt. She’d describe it more as an attack on fashion, even with her own lack of clothing knowledge. She’s no Enoshima.
Her hands cross over her chest, and she looks over Chabashira’s outfit once more. “ Sorry. This isn’t cute or funky.”
“You’re so cruel!” Chabashira points in her direction, frowning in a way that must be exaggerated. Harukawa isn’t the best at reading people, but there’s no mistaking the intent in Chabashra’s words when there’s a spark of playfulness in her eyes. “Tenko thinks that it’s fashion!”
Harukawa raises an eyebrow. That’s no surprise. Chabashira being a constant fashion disaster is no secret, but at least her terrible taste is endearing. It would be a lie to say that her overwhelming need to add frills to most of her outfits isn’t cute.
But this isn’t cute, or endearing. It’s just bad fashion. Harukawa definitely can’t stand for it.
“I came here to collect what I thought would be a normal, sociable girlfriend-“ She’s never going to get used to saying the word, no matter how many times it rolls from her tongue. “-with good fashion sense. Instead I get you, with your denim socks and sandals.”
“You like it,” Chabashira accuses.
“I sure do not,” Harukawa says with a roll of her eyes. “At this point, I’d like it better if you wore something eye-bleedingly neon. Like Mioda does, sometimes.”
“Tenko wouldn’t steal Mioda-senpai’s style.” Chabashira’s frown steepens, and-
Ah. Harukawa doesn’t think it’s a joke anymore. The conversation freezes, as does she, when she notices the way Chabashira falters. It’s never a good thing when the energy of that girl wavers.
“... I’m kidding,” Harukawa says, “you know that, right? I’m teasing you.”
“Teasing?” Chabashira echoes, with a blink.
Harukawa nods. “Yeah. You’re… uh, cute, in whatever you wear.” Compliments like that are just as strange as girlfriend. She might never get used to it. And it’s not a lie, not really. Chabashira is cute. It’s just the outfit that isn’t.
There definitely won’t be getting any used to the way Chabashira lights up at the comment, cheeks going a bright red. “A-Ah, cute?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Harukawa feels her own cheeks warm, too. If only she could go back in time to tell her younger self she’d end up finding Chabashira this endearing. This adorable. This wonderful.
She wouldn’t believe it, no doubt.
“... Let’s go, then,” Harukawa says, offering her hand. “If you just want to stand there flustered, it’ll take all day.”
Chabashira splutters through an apology, but she doesn’t waste any time in taking the hand. Even for a martial artist, her hands are soft, in some kind of strange way. It’s definitely not the kind of touch Harukawa would have appreciated at the start of school, not back when she hadn’t known what soft was.
But Chabashira’s hand is soft, and her face looks soft, and even with how loud she can be, she’s been soft around Harukawa. It’s a good thing, she thinks.
“You’re still mean,” Chabashira says. She doesn’t mean it.
“Yeah? You’re still cute,” Harukawa says. She mean it.