Sasuke eyes the lipstick with more than a little contempt.
It's to blame for the petal-pink that paints his lips, just as it's the liner's fault that his eyes look wide and innocent when ringed in gray; the rouge's, that his cheeks flush prettily.
He blames the lace panties for the way his knees don't shake; the sheer skirt for his gentle surge in confidence; the ruffles on his top for the way he likes the hinted girlishness his chest takes on.
The sense of loss when later, he peels off his femininity like a shell, he blames entirely on himself.