Spring break. I spent most of my days at home, focused on the meticulous assembly of my lightsaber.
Progress remained slow, as always, but it was steady. At this rate, I expected to have it completed by the start of the new school year.
Assuming, of course, I could maintain this pace.
"Ta-da! What do you think, Koto-chan? It's a new-and-improved Toga! I'm a high schooler in a sailor scout uniform!"
Toga stood right beside me, arms spread wide in a theatrical flourish. She didn't miss the chance to give her skirt a playful twirl. She certainly never lacked for energy.
I spared her a brief glance from the corner of my eye before returning my focus to my work.
"Ah… yes. I don't claim to be an expert on fashion, but I can see it suits you well. You look very 'cu-u-ute.' It's almost a shame I'm too busy to give you my full attention."
A lightsaber is a weapon built for rugged use, but internally, it is a delicate instrument of precision. During the assembly phase, the slightest tremor of the hand can ruin the alignment. It requires a constant dialogue with the Force; it is a labor far more spiritual and demanding than mere mechanical tinkering.
That said, my praise wasn't just a platitude. I genuinely thought the sailor uniform suited her. She was, by all objective standards, a very striking girl.
"Ehehehe! Right? I knew picking this school was the right choice!"
My sentiment seemed to reach her. Toga gave a bashful, delighted grin.
Ever since that day after the graduation ceremony, she had become a frequent guest at my home. Nominally, as I mentioned before, she was here to assist with my "Quirk training" and to socialize as a friend.
Because she visited so often, she had become quite a fixture in our household. My parents—especially my mother—were moved to tears by the fact that I had finally brought a friend home. I felt there was a slight discrepancy between her perception of our "friendship" and the reality, but I chose to leave that unsaid.
Having taken a liking to the way my mother addressed me, Toga had taken to calling me "Koto-chan." I didn't particularly mind, though her sense of boundaries seemed… fundamentally broken.
"…Wait," I said, pausing. "Did you just imply you chose your high school based entirely on the uniform design?"
"Of course! I mean, if the uniform isn't cute, how am I supposed to stay motivated?"
"I see… I won't say I don't understand the sentiment, but as a criterion for choosing an educational institution, isn't that a bit suspect?"
"Oh, Koto-chan, don't be like that! 'Cute' is justice!"
"…That is a world I simply do not understand."
Toga spoke with burning passion, her fists clenched, but I had no further comments. For a Jedi, dressing up beyond necessity was seen as an invitation to vanity—and was therefore generally discouraged.
Of course, there were exceptions for the Jedi Council or the Galactic Senate where a dress code was required, but even then, a Jedi's default was always the traditional, humble robe.
"Hmph! What a waste! Koto-chan is so cu-u-ute, you really ought to put a little more effort into your look!"
Pouting, Toga planted her hands on her hips and leaned in close, peering into my face with a mock-glare.
She was getting in the way of my delicate work, so I gently nudged her aside. Still, I took no offense. I was currently wearing an oversized shirt stained with mechanical oil and a pair of equally baggy trousers. Even for a child, it wasn't a look most girls would envy.
But I was not "normal," so it didn't bother me. I knew how to dress for ceremonies when required; for a day of labor, this was the only logical choice.
"Honestly, she's absolutely right," my mother chimed in, entering the room with drinks and snacks. "Help me out here, Toga-chan. This girl has zero interest in looking nice."
Toga's face lit up at the sight of my mother. I, meanwhile, shot her a frown. On this particular front, my mother was my sworn enemy.
Most of the clothes she tried to force upon me were gaudy, over-decorated things that were as mentally taxing to wear as they were impractical for combat or training. Our sensibilities were, quite simply, irreconcilable.
"Right!? See, Koto-chan? Even your mom says so! Let's just try a little harder to be stylish, okay?"
"I decline. Firstly, I have neither the funds nor the time to waste on such things. And secondly… between my 'Quirk' and my training, our grocery bill is already astronomical. I should be practicing frugality, not extravagance."
"…Mom! Look at her! Listen to the way she talks!"