---
The automatic doors slid open, and the vibrant, overwhelming world of children’s fashion imdiately challenged Yuna’s strict sense of order.
"We’ll start here," I said as the automatic doors of the children’s clothing store slid open.
The air inside was warr.
The faint scent of new fabric and thin plastic mingled in the air.
The racks were filled with colors I had never worn in my entire life.
Soft pink. Sky blue. Bright yellow. Floral patterns. Animal characters that looked entirely too happy.
Yuna stopped one step inside.
Her eyes darted around.
Not like an awestruck child.
More like soone conducting a survey.
---
"We need to find the uniform section," she said.
"Do you know the way?"
"Usually, it is on the right side."
"Usually?"
"I saw it once... on the internet."
Of course.
We walked to the right.
The school uniforms were hung neatly by size. Pristine white. Navy blue pleated skirts. Little blazers hung in parallel rows like an army of miniature soldiers.
---
Yuna imdiately checked the size tags.
"For a height of 130 cm," she murmured quietly.
"You know your height?"
"More or less."
She pulled out a top. Held it up against her body. asuring it visually.
"This seems adequate."
"You can try it on."
She nodded.
The fitting rooms were in the back corner. The curtains were a pale cream. A tall mirror stood outside.
Yuna went in with two sets of uniforms.
The curtain pulled shut.
I stood outside. Hands in my jacket pockets. Listening to the quiet rustle of fabric.
A few seconds later—
"Papa."
"Hm."
"If the skirt length is below the knee... is that too long?"
"No."
"What if it is slightly above the knee?"
"Still no."
The curtain parted slightly.
Slowly, the pale cream curtain began to slide open, revealing the result of her careful, calculated sizing. Would the uniform finally make her look like the normal, ordinary nine-year-old child she was supposed to be?
---
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