Chapter Text
"Hey! Sojiro! Dad!" called a voice from down the hall, and Ryuji winced instinctively. It was hard enough asking for this kind of help without a hyperactive little nerd chick around to poke fun…
Said 'nerd chick' popped out of her room as if she were spring loaded, skittering to a halt at the sight of the contents of the Sakura residence's foyer.
"Hey, sweetie," Sojiro replied, throwing his hand up in a greeting. As expected, the girl's warmth and excitement were all but gone, leaving bemused confusion in their stead.
"The heck is he doing here?"
Sojiro cast his eye towards the boy at his side - Ryuji. "Well? I won't tell her if you don't want me to."
That's just gonna make her way more curious, you old asshole was what Ryuji wanted to say if he truly had had the guts to shit-talk the Boss to his face. "N-nah, it's fine." was what came out instead.
"This guy needs some nice duds for a certain special occasion," Sojiro explained. "With Akira at home, I guess he figured I was the next in line for fashion advice."
"Heh. 'Certain special occasion' my ass!" Futaba gawked.
"Language."
"S-sorry. But c'mon, it's February - you don't gotta pretend I don't know what you're talking about. You're at the end of, like, the most basic romance path ever. Ooh, I wonder if you're gonna unlock any CGs…"
"Should I even ask…?" Sojiro pondered.
"Better if you didn't," Ryuji sighed.
With her hands clasped sheepishly behind her back, Futaba tiptoed down the hall. "Y'knooow, I could offer a little female perspective if you want."
Ryuji found himself the subject of another inquisitive look from Sojiro. Dating sims don't friggin' count as dating experience, he thought, still holding his tongue. At that point, were he to antagonize Sojiro, his only accessible male friend would be Yusuke, and Ryuji would rather have gone it alone than talk Valentine's with that freak. "Sure, that's cool," he decided halfheartedly.
"Poggers!" Futaba squeaked, pulling out her phone and frantically pawing at the screen. "I got, like, a bajillion ideas for your look. There's this really cute-"
"H-hey,” Sojiro cut in, “not that I want to rain on your parade or anything, but aren’t you gonna give your old man a shot first? I was pret-ty stylish back in my day.”
“‘Kay,” she chirped back, “but if you pick out a lame outfit, I’m calling it lame. Right to your face!”
“Mm. Sure thing.”
With that, he disappeared up the stairs. To Ryuji’s surprise, Futaba had fallen completely silent, staring at him with her hand pensively gripping her chin.
“W-what? The hell is that look about?” he whined.
“Just thinking about your dialogue options. I always pick the right ones, but normally you can never get the good end on the first try… although, I guess you’re not gonna have any other tries.”
“Well, you ain’t technically wrong… but why’re you so interested in this thing?”
“Becauuuse, dummy,” Futaba affirmed, “I like Ann, and I want her to have a good time!”
“Jeez, you really gotta sneak diss me like that?”
As she enjoyed a catty chuckle at Ryuji’s expense, Sojiro appeared again with a neat stack of folded cloth in one hand and some simple-yet-casual black shoes in the other.
“Ooh, gimme!” Futaba cried, snatching the first garment away from him.
“Futaba, be careful with that, it’s-”
“Silk!?”
She had unfurled the shirt, holding it aloft like some kind of mystical scroll. The dark fabric was patterned with an assortment of small, desaturated dark-red and off-white flowers. Its aura was simultaneously somewhat regal and somewhat tacky. Disgust contorted Futaba’s face.
“You want him to look like a friggin’ pimp?” she chided.
“Wait until he puts it on, at least,” Sojiro groaned, then looked at Ryuji. “Well? You wanna give it a shot, kid?”
Ryuji shrugged. “I dunno shit about fashion, so, sure.”
“We’re about the same size, so- hell, you’re more muscular than I ever was. If anything it’ll fit slim. Tuck it in, too. My room’s fine, go on up.”
As Ryuji ascended the stairs, he caught the beginning of an argument:
“How come I can’t say ‘ass’, but he can say ‘shit’?”
“Futaba…”
……...
As Ryuji peered into Sojiro’s mirror, he couldn’t help but be a little impressed.
………
“Huh,” Futaba grunted.
“Yeah,” Ryuji responded, hitching his thumbs into unfamiliar pockets. Besides the shirt, he was wrapped waist-to-toe in pure black: slim black pants, a plain black belt, and the aforementioned shoes. Nervously, he began to turn around, mumbling to himself, “I should- like, you spin around when you’re… showin’ off or whatever, um-”
“Well, I think you look great, Sakamoto-kun,” Sojiro declared proudly. “Almost as good as I did back then,” he added with a chuckle.
“I can’t believe I don’t hate it,” Futaba admitted. “How could that shirt look good? Is this the true nature of Sojiro Sakura’s stand!?”
Ryuji snapped his fingers. “I got that reference.”
“You only get the normie ones.”
“I almost forgot,” Sojiro interrupted again, plunging his hand into his pocket. “Turn around.”
Ryuji obliged, and soon felt cold metal on his neck. A small-ish gold chain had been draped around it.
“Okay, now THAT is tacky,” Futaba complained.
“I thought it would go with his hair, but-” Sojiro said skeptically.
“Tacky or not, it friggin’ rules! A gold chain? Shit’s totally gangster!”
With a sigh, Sojiro massaged his forehead. “That… really wasn’t my intention, but if you like it…”
“Hell yeah I do. Thanks, boss. I owe you one!”
A tired sort of smile found its way to Sojiro’s face. “No worries, kid. I’m gonna head back now. Take care of those clothes, they’re worth more than my business.”
………
"Pardon me if this is rude, but I must ask what made you choose me for this particular task."
More than anything, Ann expected to get some kind of lecture on the history of Rococo art or the virtues of whatever random object had captured Yusuke's focus that day. Given his penchant for over-the-top theatrics, she found herself forgetting that he was pretty much just like any other guy underneath all the surface weirdness.
"Oh, well," she began, gathering her thoughts, "you've got a good eye for art, so I figured you'd probably be a great help with this, too! ...also, Shiho and Haru were both busy..."
"I see. Nonetheless, I would have assumed that someone as in-touch as you would be able to pick out a dress on your own. In fact, I would have assumed you would already have a quite vibrant assortment of clothing suitable for a date like this."
"I mean, yeah, I could just pick a dress I like, but that's no fun. Plus, if we both agree on something, that must mean it's extra good, right?"
"Consensus is important in such subjective matters. Very well. I shall not rest until we have procured only the most sublime article of clothing Ryuji will have ever seen."
Leave it to Yusuke to spice up the otherwise routine walk from the train station to Ann's favorite shopping destination. She nearly pointed out that, while important, this date wasn't near as dramatic as he was making it out to be, but she decided it would be better to let the guy have his fun. As she said, fun was most of why she shopped with company anyway.
"Are you into fashion at all, Yusuke?" she asked, interested enough to overlook the possibility of an hour-long lecture.
"While I am a painter most principally, I do not deny myself the experience of any form of art. Fashion is unique in that it serves a direct, utilitarian function and is present throughout the whole of everyone's lives. That's excluding nudists, of course."
"Um-"
"I can neither deny the bold, dangerous statements being made by the more avant-garde designers nor the appeal of a simple, well-made t-shirt. Had I any confidence in my sewing skills, I would perhaps have made an attempt of my own at crafting a unique piece of clothing by now. Alas..."
Ann braced herself, as every sentence Yusuke abandoned meant a dice roll between getting to talk and being treated to another four or five sentences. The dice were in her favor.
"That would really be something," she offered. "Maybe someday you can make me a dress instead of just buying one with me!"
"Perhaps. Although, I can't guarantee I'd make anything to your liking."
"Have you ever picked out an outfit for a girl?"
"In a way, yes. There is a wardrobe in our studio for the life models to use whether by request of the students or the teacher. I have given my input from time to time. There's far more than just clothes in there: costume pieces, assorted jewelry, even a mascot head… It's all quite gay indeed."
Ann suddenly felt very confused. Why was he smiling…? "W-what? Why would you say that?"
"Hm? What could be more fanciful than a mascot costume?" he replied earnestly. "It's a teddy bear, mind you."
"Oh," she grunted, and it felt like the realization had slid from her mouth and thud ded to the ground like an anvil. Duh. Other 'gay'. Despite being used to most of Yusuke's eccentricities, Ann still wondered who taught him to talk like some kind of centenarian. Madarame didn't even sound like that. Oh well, the store was just a block away now.
………
"Hmm… yes," Yusuke hummed pensively, "but I need to see it in different lighting. Step out here."
Ann obliged, having already accepted the fact that Yusuke would likely have his own weird criteria for what makes a good dress.
"No, that's no good either," he growled, tapping his foot.
"The lighting?" Ann wondered aloud. "Does it matter that much?"
"But of course. You're looking at someone who has spent hours, nay, days studying the travel of light through the translucent folds and ruffles of every manner of cloth! Light is what gives us art, and by proxy beauty. Without light, there would be naught but dark, and th-"
"Yusuke! What do you think of the dress?"
"One moment."
Yusuke turned, and before Ann could think to object, he had pulled aside a passing worker.
"Excuse me, my good man. Is there perhaps any chance that the lights in this establishment are equipped with dimmer switches? My friend has asked me to provide my opinion on her choice of dress, which I believe could only be done thoroughly under the circumstances that-"
Frantically, Ann dashed over, throwing her hand onto Yusuke's shoulder and tugging him back. "He's just joking, mister! Sorry!" she giggled unconvincingly, a crimson trace of embarrassment staining her tensed face.
"Have I overstepped my bounds?" Yusuke asked after having returned to Ann's fitting room. Despite how emotionless his tone was, Ann almost felt bad for him.
"It's okay, Yusuke. Sorry if I startled you. I just don't think all that stuff is necessary, okay?"
"Yes," Yusuke pondered, "I suppose that Ryuji would not be the hardest to impress… nonetheless, don't you find that one to be a little… unremarkable?"
"That's what I was thinking, actually."
………
"No. No freaking way."
"B-but it was designed by-"
"I don't care! I'm not gonna pay that much for something that barely covers my boobs!"
"Such impudent language… this is art!"
………
It was all the more surprising when Yusuke showed up with something tasteful. It was a deep red - perhaps cliche given the occasion, but how could you go wrong with a red dress - and hugged her body tightly up until the slit that ran from her thigh to her ankle where the garment ended. There was one thick, asymmetrical strap, leaving the other shoulder completely bare.
"Exquisite," Yusuke cheered. "It is passionate, yet tasteful. In this most exalted of garments, you exude an ineffable balance of prurience and authority. I only wish I could paint such a sight…"
"You're really either 0 or 100, huh?" Ann let slip.
"Hm?"
"N-nothing. I think this is the dress, though."
………
Riding the train all gussied up was not as embarrassing as Ryuji had predicted. Certainly, there were no fewer people onboard than normal for that time - close to dinnertime - but a surprising amount of them were seemingly in the same situation as him. Maybe it shouldn't have been surprising that the train was full of people headed to dates on Valentine's day, but this is Ryuji we're talking about.
As the crowd jostled him, he remembered Sojiro's words. How delicate was silk, exactly? Carefully, he fought his way off the train, slithering through the cracks between strangers. The battle petered off as he climbed the stairs to emerge above ground, bathing in the slight orange of the late-afternoon sun.
A sort of sparkle caught Ryuji's eye. He would have ignored it if he hadn't seen it many times before. Standing at the corner of the street was Ann, light refracting through the translucent edges of her hair. One thing was different this time: her hair was flowing freely down her back. Ryuji couldn't help but break into a light jog.
"Hey!" he called out.
"Ryuji!" she cheered back, bracing herself for impact.
As was his habit at the time, Ryuji put his momentum into a tight bear hug, lifting his girlfriend up and spinning almost one full rotation. As was her habit, she squealed a little at the sensation of losing contact with the ground.
He allowed Ann to return to earth, but not without a peck on the cheek.
There was a moment of silence as the two finally got a good look at each other.
"Holy shit," Ryuji beamed, threading his fingers between the pale locks of hair tucked behind Ann's ear. "How come you don't put your hair down like this except in bed?"
With a scoff, Ann shoved the boy away by the shoulders. "So you don't say gross crap like that, you jerk!"
"I can't help it," he claimed. "You look so friggin' grown up, like... like you could kick my ass, or somethin'."
"Jeez, you think I look different… look at you! I know you didn't pick out that crazy shirt."
"Crazy? C-crazy in a good way, yeah?"
"The right kind of crazy for you. I love it." Her eyes traced his outfit from head to toe, and she suddenly reached out to grab Ryuji's hand. "Hey - I'm starving! Where did you make a reservation?"
Ryuji froze. Oh shit. Sweat rushed to his palms. Conflict was much more uncomfortable without a shotgun strapped to your back, and this wasn't really the kind of problem that could be solved by one anyway, unless he wanted to finish his dinner in jail.
"You didn't…?" Ann pieced together. "Ry uji!"
"U-um, hey! I do got a place in mind, I just- ...it should be okay. I doubt that many couples are goin' there anyway. It's just down here."
"I hope you're right, you… you butthole!" She drove an accusing finger into the center of her boyfriend's chest.
Ryuji couldn't help but stifle laughter through a crooked smile.
"Something funny?" Ann threatened. Perhaps it would be prudent not to push her on her silly insult. Instead, Ryuji started down the street.
...and very quickly saw the line of people in front of his favorite ramen shop. Weaving between the door and the queue were intermittent handfuls of disappointed couples. Even a cursory glance proved that there wasn't a restaurant around that wasn't similarly stuffed.
"Shit…" Ryuji hissed.
"Darn…" Ann agreed, apparently having lost the desire to rebuke her forgetful boyfriend. Said boyfriend turned her way with a penitent look and a nervous hand on the back of his head.
"Looks like I effed this whole thing up pretty royally, huh? And for a dumb reason, too."
Ann cast her gaze downward. There was no mistaking her disappointment, but she never preferred to pout.
"It's not really about the food, I guess," she decided.
"Aw, are you gonna get all sappy this early?" Ryuji joked, having been revitalized somewhat by Ann's outlook.
"I guess I can save that for later, yeah," she giggled. "Let's just get some fast food, or something."
………
The smell of salt and hot grease wafted through the slight crack in Ryuji's window. The cold February breeze incessantly crept inside, but anything was better than spending the night together getting hotboxed on cheeseburger fumes.
"Why do they call em' french fries?" Ryuji pondered, inquisitively raising a single fry in front of his face. "Ain't they American?"
"I feel like you should know that. I'm the sweet one, you're the salty one. In more ways than one."
"Oh, what ever," Ryuji huffed.
"See? Totally salty," Ann laughed. She raised her small container of fries, holding it next to Ryuji's head in her field of view. "Looks like your hair, too."
"Eh. No matter what you do to a potato, it ain't ever gonna get as fluffy as this shit," Ryuji bragged, running a hand across his head to prove his point.
"Oh, good," Ann snarked. "I was really worried that potatoes would be fluffier than your hair. I'd just have to break up with you!"
Realizing he was being made fun of, Ryuji growled.
"Well, that's what you get for saying cheesy stuff to look cool," Ann said.
"Hey, speakin' a' cheesy," Ryuji began, refocused. "Since we're here and not, y'know, in public, don't that mean we should do some dumb couple shit?"
"Like what?"
Without an answer, Ryuji fished a particularly long fry from his cardboard pouch. He held it lengthways some distance in front of him.
"C'mere," he urged.
"Oh, god no."
Despite her words, Ann scooted close enough to nibble at the end of the fry. As they inched closer and closer together, Ryuji's fingers left the snack, leaving it suspended mutually by their mouths and nothing more. Their lips touched, and Ann pulled away quickly.
"Whad?" Ryuji mumbled, swallowing his food.
"I -glp- can't freaking kiss you with food in my mouth!" she explained. "That was way grosser than I thought…"
"I guess you got a point. How 'bout this?"
He raised another fry, this time tipping it all the way towards Ann and putting it almost to her lips. Instinctively, she leaned in to pluck it from his hand with her teeth, though she didn't quite realize what she had done before she was halfway through chewing the thing. She tried to glare at Ryuji, but could not fight her smile.
"Now do me," Ryuji said, unfazed.
"You're such a dork sometimes," Ann replied. Despite the sentiment, she did the same to Ryuji as was done to her, and the dopey grin that resulted as he eagerly munched away removed any trace of sarcasm from Ann's attitude.
"Whatever," Ryuji shrugged. "It's burger time." He began rummaging in the paper sack on the floor.
"You're done with 'dumb couple shit?'"
"Yeh," he grunted. "I need me some meat."
"Don't phrase it like that…" Ann whined.
"'Hamburger'... 'zat mean 'cow' in American?" Ryuji pondered, unfolding a crinkling paper wrapper.
"English, and no, I really don't think so."
Shrugging again, Ryuji began separating the top bun of his burger from the rest of the components. Delicately, he plucked the three crinkle-cut discs of pickle from the top of the sandwich and set them aside on the open wrapper before setting the top bun back in place.
"...you know you can just ask for it without pickles, right?"
Ryuji's eyes widened. How many times had he had Big Bang Burger with Akira? Hell, with anyone? Why did nobody ever tell him that?
"I… didn't think about that."
Nonchalantly, Ann plucked one of the pickles from Ryuji's hand and popped it into her mouth. "You're an idiot, Ryuji…"
"And you're brushin' your teeth later. I ain't kissin' no pickle-breath."
"Oh, like that would stop you," Ann taunted with a smile.
"It would!"
Realization would not come fast enough as Ryuji watched a devilish, confident look cross Ann's face. In a single pounce, she was upon him, her tongue already urging him to give in. He reeled, gripping awkwardly onto his cheeseburger and reluctantly opening his mouth to receive the kiss. The wrapper, pickles and all, slipped off of his lap as he caught his balance with his other hand on the floor. Realizing and subsequently ignoring his hypocrisy, he met the intruding tongue with his own.
His submission was met with unabashed laughter as Ann pulled away. "You're too easy," she said, feigning disappointment. "Way too horny, too. I don't know how you boys keep it up."
Ryuji took a large, performatively angry bite of his burger. "Whatever..."