there a know at your door, you open it to see, Tomura. Your boss. He stood there, pink skirt, white shirt with some pastel design on it, fluffy pink socks scrunched up a little over his red trainers, his skinny frame now very visible, the scars in his arms and legs, his light blue hair covering his eyes, the pale blue from his unsaved legs, and of corse. His father on his face, the hand. It was so different from his old, gothic cloths…. It was weird, not used to it.