Aoko took a glance at him, crossed her arms, and said, "This won't do."

He raised his brows, shoving his hands in his pockets. "The heck?"

"Turn around, Kaito, we're going back to your place."

"What?"

Aoko yanked him by the arm, pulling him as she made her way through the crowd with all the grim determination of a woman on the warpath. "Aoko refuses to be seen in public with you when you're dressed like this."

"Excuse you? I'm dressed perfectly fine!"

"Gray jacket, orange shirt, and that red and green monstrosity wrapped around your waist," Aoko listed, shaking her head in disapproval. "For the sake of Aoko's eyes, you're going to change clothes."

Kaito tried to tug his arm back, but Aoko had one hell of a grip. Her fingers tightened in answer to his attempts to free his limb and that he could feel her nails dig through the layers of fabric told Kaito he would not be able to escape intact.

Well, fine! He'd gone through similar situations as Kid anyway. Since he was physically compromised, it was time to aim for every Nakamori's weak point: their temper. "Who do you think you are to lecture me about what I wear, bimboko? You just slap on a dress or a skirt and you're done!"

"And you just have to 'slap a shirt and some pants'," she repeated, tone mocking, "but you can't even manage to do that without looking like a fashion disaster!"

"At least I don't look like a ten-years-old!" he retorted hotly. The nerve of her! He bet if Aoko put up her hair in pigtails like she did when they were kids, she'd look the exact same (except for the extra inches of height gained through the years).

"And at least Aoko could dress herself properly when she was ten! The only reason you didn't look like a gremlin was because auntie Chikage picked your clothes!"

"Miss me with that gremlin nonsense, I was a very cute kid!"

Aoko ignored him, looking through her purse for his house keys and opening his front door.

"Maybe you were, but now you're an eyesore. Get in, jerkaito. We're getting you a proper outfit for once in your life." She emphasized her words by pushing him through his own entrance, manhandling up the stairs and into his room.

"Ugh, fine!" he huffed, slumping on his bed while Aoko raided his closet. "Show me what you can do, oh fashion guru," he mocked, tone flat, eyes half-lidded in annoyance.

Kaito watched in silence, sullen, as Aoko took out his shirts and pants and matched them on the ground, adding the occasional belt, tie or jacket to complete the outfits. It did seem like she knew what she was doing, but he would never tell her as much.

It'd just inflate her ego.

"This is stupid," he muttered under his breath, "Dad used to pick his own clothes and mom never told him off."

"That's because uncle Toichi had a great eye for fashion," Aoko replied easily, "Something you unfortunately didn't inherit."

"I didn't see you complaining about the clothes I picked for you during the ski trip! Or when we went to that bar to get Jii-chan's queue back!"

Aoko stared at him like he was an idiot. "Jerkaito, you only picked dresses. That's hard to mess up, even for you."

He growled, "I'll have you know shopping for someone else is much harder than you think. You have to think of things like the skin tone, the haircut, and the body shape. Not that you'd know much about that part, since you're as flat as a brick― gah!" he yelped when Aoko threw a belt his way, its metallic tip almost smacking him the face, followed by a shirt and some pants.

"Aoko'll wait outside," was all she said, tone flat. "You better change or else…" she raised a fist in warning before leaving his room.

He stuck his tongue out towards the door. Very reluctantly, Kaito complied with Aoko's order, hoping that his new outfit would look awful so he could get back at her for giving so much grief over his choice of clothing.

Once done, Kaito took a quick look at himself and… dammit, he didn't look half bad. He actually looked better than he did before.

Fine, fine! Bimboko was right, he admitted to himself. This would just be another thing to add to the (rather long) list of things he kept from her. No way in hell he would let her know he liked the outfit she chose for him. He'd never hear the end of it.

Aoko knocked on the door and he let her in. She eyed him up and down, much like she did earlier in the day, a thoughtful look on her face before she nodded in approval. "See? That's much better."

"Happy now?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes." She grinned smugly. "Isn't there something you'd like to say to Aoko?" she asked, elbowing him in the sides while waggling her brows up and down.

Kaito crossed his arms. "Such as?"

"Mm, I don't know, how about something like 'You were right all along, I'm sorry for doubting you, Aoko' or 'You're really fashionable, Aoko.' Even a simple 'thank you, Aoko' will do."

"Like hell I'm saying any of that, bimboko!"

Aoko scowled. "Aoko went through all that trouble to pick something for you and you're not even the least bit grateful?"

"I didn't ask you to!" Kaito pointed out. "I was fine with whatever I was wearing, but it seemed her majesty Nakamori's delicate sensibilities were offended."

Aoko's eyes flashed, nose scrunched up in hurt and anger. "Aoko should just have let you look like a clown. Oh, but Aoko forgot, you already act like one!"

"I'm a magician, dammit! Don't compare me to those second-rate performers!"

"You can do magic, sure, but you've got none of the charm of a magician," Aoko spat.

"What the hell would you know about charm? You're as dull and as flat as a board!"

Aoko glared at him, eyes flat. "Jerkaito," she deadpanned, "Aoko still remembers when you tried to shove an entire box of pocky in your mouth in one go. After that, nothing you do will save your image."

He sputtered. "T-that was a dare! And that goes double for you, bimboko. You've done lots of dumb things too."

She sniffed, throwing her head back haughtily. "Maybe, but at least Aoko wouldn't be caught dead wearing something as bad as you did."

Kaito rolled his eyes. "And now we're back to clothes."

"We could have avoided that entire conversation if you had just said 'thank you' like any normal person does!"

He threw his hands in the air. She could be so stubborn over the littlest of details! "Fine, I give up! Thank you, bimboko, for picking me a new outfit," he drawled in the most unconvinced voice he could manage. "Happy now?"

Aoko shook her head. "You didn't sound sincere."

Kaito groaned, dragging a hand down his face. From between his fingers, he saw that Aoko was staring at him. "What now?" he asked, tired of fighting over clothes.

"Your collar's a bit crooked."

His hands went to fix it, but Aoko smacked them away. "You're just making it worse," she muttered, stepping closer to do the job herself. The movement and slight jingle of her bracelets as they slid down her arms caught his attention, and Kaito's eyes moved up to Aoko's face.

Her cheeks were bright red, highlighting the little vein ticking above her brows and the bump on the curve of her nose from when she got hit by a ball when they were kids. Aoko licked her lips and his eyes followed the movement, noticing how her mouth seemed to gleam a bit. It looked soft and her pout was kind of cute…

The tips of Aoko's fingers were cool as they brushed against his skin and Kaito flushed in embarrassment. He looked aside, feeling heat creeping up his neck and face. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"You're welcome."

"For picking me an outfit," he clarified, scratching his cheek nervously.

"Aoko's got you more than one."

"Thanks for all of them, then."

"Anytime."

"Really?"

Aoko avoided looking at him, flushing in embarrassment and fussing with his collar even more. "W-well, yeah… if you don't mind."

"I don't," he reassured.

"Okay."

"So… you'll keep on picking outfits for me?"

"Isn't that what Aoko just said?"

"For how long?"

"Until you develop an eye for things like this."

"What if I don't?"

Aoko blinked, turning a brighter shade of red. "Then Aoko will keep on doing this until we're all old and wrinkly."

That, Kaito thought, didn't sound like a bad plan at all.