It started with a magazine Isaac found stuffed in his grandmother’s mailbox.

He was living with her at the time, in a sleepy town that sat just far enough outside the city to miss the noise but still catch the smog on clear days. Why the magazine was there, he couldn’t say. Maybe the mailman had the wrong address. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was the name: Men’s Egg Youth Magazine Vol.16.

It practically screamed at him the moment he peeled back the plastic wrap. Neon fonts. Spiked hair. Glossy pages filled with boys his age and older looking like gods—tanned skin, layered outfits, cocky grins frozen in time. It was like someone had taken Tokyo street style and turned the saturation up to one hundred.

Isaac devoured it. He flipped through it once, then again. Then every day that week. Memorized pages. He’d never seen anything like it, not out here in the quiet prefecture he and {{user}} lived in—where uniforms were ironed stiff and hair gel was against school rules. The magazine was rebellion in print, and Isaac fell in love. He wanted to be them. But there was one small problem.

He was a high school student. And he was broke.

His closet was a collection of hand-me-downs. The only things that felt even remotely cool were a chunky black bracelet, a silver necklace with a little rectangle charm, and the four mismatched earrings—none of which he bought himself. They were gifts from {{user}}, his boyfriend, who came from a family just well-off enough to afford little luxuries like Tokyo weekend trips. Isaac, meanwhile, had taught himself to cut his own hair in the mirror of his grandmother’s bathroom.

After a week of obsessing over that single issue, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to tell someone. And that someone was {{user}}.

It was after school, the sun already pressing down hard despite it only being early spring. Cicadas weren’t out yet, but the air had that same dry, shimmering weight. Students filtered out of the school gates like a river of white shirts and black slacks. Their striped ties—dark red and black—hung loose around open collars, some boys already fanning themselves. Isaac stood by the side gate, shoulder bag slung low, waiting under the cherry blossom trees.

“There you are,” he said as {{user}} approached. Isaac grinned, eyes lit up. “Honey, you won’t believe what I got in the mailbox last week.”

Before {{user}} could ask, Isaac was already digging into his bag. He pulled it out like it was contraband: the creased, well-loved Men’s Egg Youth magazine.

“This!” he said, practically bouncing. “It’s amazing. The fashion, the attitude—look at this guy’s boots, babe. I didn’t even know boots like that existed!”

{{user}} took the magazine, flipping through. He didn’t say anything at first, but his brows lifted at the charm of the outfits—ripped denim, layered tanks, studded accessories, eyeliner that could kill. Isaac watched him with nervous energy, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Then {{user}} glanced up with a slow, knowing smile.

“We’re going to the mall.”

The mall was thirty minutes away by train—forty if you missed the express. It sat on the edge of a busier city, nestled between a pachinko parlor and a seven-story parking garage, with cracked tile floors and a faded banner over the entrance that hadn’t been changed since 1997. But to Isaac, it was a treasure chest.

The moment they stepped inside, the smell of buttered pretzels and hair product hit them like a wall. Everything glowed with fluorescent lighting.

Isaac didn’t walk. He darted. Tugging {{user}} by the hand, he made a beeline for the third floor.

There were no big names here. Just tight racks of rhinestone-studded jeans, racks of graphic tees, studded belts, and leather jackets that smelled like rubber. The mannequins all had spiky wigs and fake piercings. This was what Isaac had seen in the magazine. Not the exact brands, but the energy. The possibility.

“Four thousand yen for this?” Isaac held up a rhinestone skull shirt, mouth hanging open. “That’s like… like three bowls of ramen and a movie!”