Pit woke up early.
Not because of training.
Not because of danger.
Not even because Ridley broke something.
No.
His bow woke him.
A soft glow pulsed from the weapon resting beside his bed. A tiny message shimmered in the air.
"Good morning, Pit. Meet me outside your room. We're going out."
— Lady Palutena
Pit rubbed his eyes and sat up.
"…Why does my weapon text me now?"
The bow sparkled once. Proudly.
Pit sighed and got dressed in his usual outfit—white tunic, gold trim, sandals, arm guards, the whole divine warrior look. He stepped into the hallway where Palutena waited, already smiling.
"Good morning, Pit."
"Morning, Lady Palutena." He stretched his wings. "Uh… where are we going?"
Palutena turned gracefully and started walking. "Shopping."
Pit followed automatically.
"…Shopping for what?"
Palutena glanced over her shoulder. "Clothes."
Pit blinked.
"My clothes?" He gestured at himself. "These clothes?"
Palutena nodded. "Yes."
Pit tilted his head. "But these are perfectly good clothes."
"They are," Palutena agreed. "For battle."
Pit opened his mouth. Closed it. Then opened it again.
"…Aren't we always battling?"
Palutena laughed softly. "Not in this house."
They stepped outside the Smash House. The morning sun was calm. Birds chirped. Someone inside screamed at Sephiroth again. Normal.
Palutena waved her staff, and light folded around them.
A moment later—
They stood in front of a modern clothing store.
Bright signs. Glass windows. Mannequins wearing outfits that looked like they belonged in a different universe.
Pit stared.
"…Why do I need new clothes?"
Palutena folded her arms, thoughtful. "Because yesterday…"
She paused.
Pit waited.
Palutena continued, very calmly.
"I saw Samus walking past me in a T-shirt and shorts."
Pit blinked.
"And suddenly," Palutena said, "my divine robes felt extremely out of place."
Pit stared at her.
Then slowly nodded.
"…Yeah. That makes sense."
Palutena smiled, satisfied. "Exactly."
They entered the store.
Cold air hit Pit's face. Soft music played. Racks of clothes stretched in every direction.
Pit looked overwhelmed in under three seconds.
"So many fabrics," he whispered.
Palutena placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Relax. I'll help."
A store worker looked up, saw Palutena's height, glow, and goddess aura—
—and immediately decided today was not the day to ask questions.
"Welcome," they said politely. "Take your time."
Pit walked past a rack and poked a hoodie.
"…Why does this have a pocket in the front?"
Palutena answered instantly. "To put your hands in."
Pit did exactly that.
His eyes widened.
"…This is amazing."
Next rack.
Pit lifted a pair of jeans.
"These look uncomfortable."
Palutena took them. "They are. But you'll get used to it."
Pit accepted this without resistance.
Then—
He saw a simple white T-shirt.
He picked it up.
It was light. Plain. Soft.
No armor.
No gold.
No holy symbols.
No battle purpose.
Just… normal.
Pit stared at it.
'So this is what everyone else wears…'
Palutena watched him quietly. "Try it."
Pit nodded and went to the changing room.
A moment later, he stepped out.
White T-shirt. Blue jeans. Sneakers.
His wings tucked neatly behind him.
He looked… like a normal boy.
Not a soldier.
Not a divine warrior.
Just Pit.
Palutena smiled.
"There he is."
Pit looked down at himself.
Then at the mirror.
"…I look strange."
Palutena shook her head. "You look comfortable."
Pit flexed his shoulders. "It's light."
He lifted one leg.
"I can move freely."
He hopped once.
No armor clink.
No straps tightening.
No weight dragging.
"…I like this."
Palutena nodded. "Then we'll get a few sets."
Pit paused.
"Wait. Are we paying?"
Palutena produced a glowing divine credit card.
Pit decided not to ask questions.
Pit tried a few more outfits.
Most were strange.
Some had too many zippers.
One had holes in places that made no sense.
Finally, he stepped out wearing another set.
A green vest over a white high-collar shirt. Red straps. Fingerless gloves. Heavy boots. Utility belt.
He looked ready to explore deserts, ruins, and ancient temples.
Palutena stared.
Then tilted her head.
"...No."
Pit blinked. "No?"
"You look like a desert explorer."
Pit looked down at himself. He tugged the vest. Shifted his shoulders.
"...Huh. Why do they even sell this then?"
Palutena chuckled, resting her staff against the floor.
"Sweety. This is a multiverse supermarket. They sell outfits from every universe."
As if on cue—
A boy with tan skin and an arrow tattoo on his bald head walked past.
He stopped.
Looked at Pit.
Looked at the outfit rack.
Picked up the exact same outfit Pit was wearing.
Bought it.
And left without a word.
Pit watched him go.
"...Did I just get fashion-copied by a monk?"
Palutena smiled with divine calm.
"Yes."
Pit slowly returned to the changing room.
"This world is terrifying."
A few minutes later, Pit stepped out again.
Simple T-shirt. Jacket. Pants. Sneakers.
Modern. Light. Normal.
Palutena nodded once.
"There."
Pit looked in the mirror.
No armor.
No holy markings.
No celestial war uniform.
Just… him.
He flexed his wings lightly.
'So this is casual clothing…'
He didn't dislike it.
In fact—
He kind of liked it a lot.
And somewhere in the Smash House…
Samus sneezed for no reason.
Behind one of the clothing racks, someone hid.
Pink hair fading into purple. A blue ribbon tied neatly at the side. Gothic lace. Frills. Hearts stitched into dark fabric. Pink eyes peeking out from behind a row of jackets.
[Insert image of Stocking.]
Next to her stood another woman. Pale bluish-teal skin. Long deep-blue twin ponytails. Sharp glasses. A blue pinstripe suit. Calm posture. Zero patience.
[Insert image of Scanty]
Scanty looked at her.
"...Why are you hiding?"
Stocking didn't move. Her eyes stayed locked on the aisle where Pit had just been.
"I saw my ex."
Scanty snapped her fingers.
"Bad breakup."
Stocking slowly turned her head.
"...No. We technically didn't break up."
Scanty blinked.
"...Explain."
Stocking exhaled, shoulders sinking.
"As you know, my sister and I got kicked out of Heaven for our sins. Mine was Gluttony. When that happened…"
Her voice softened.
Flashback flickered in her mind.
Pit held Stocking's hands, smiling warmly.
"Once you redeem yourself and return to Heaven… we can be together again."
Stocking smiled, cheeks faintly pink.
"T-thanks."
End flashback.
Scanty stared.
"...So?"
Stocking grabbed Scanty by the shoulders.
"I lied to him."
Scanty's eyes widened.
"What?!"
"Voice down." Stocking slapped a hand over Scanty's mouth.
Scanty muffled a string of very colorful words.
Stocking whispered.
"I've been sending him letters to Angel Land. Telling him I'm improving. That I'm getting better. That I don't pick fights anymore."
She looked away.
"...But I told him it will take me longer."
Scanty pulled Stocking's hand off her mouth gently.
"...So you ghosted an angel boyfriend… by mail."
Stocking nodded once.
"...Yes."
Scanty adjusted her glasses.
"...That is impressively terrible."
Stocking slid down the rack and sat on the floor, hugging her knees.
"And now he's here."
Scanty looked over the rack toward the aisle.
"...And he's wearing normal clothes."
Stocking peeked out again.
Pit laughed with Palutena nearby, holding a shopping bag.
Stocking sank lower.
"I am not emotionally prepared for this."
Scanty patted her head like one would comfort a stray cat.
"Don't worry. If he sees you, you can always pretend to be a very fashionable background NPC."
Stocking looked up.
"...That might actually work."
Somewhere else in the store, Pit suddenly shivered.
"...Why do I feel like I owe someone an awkward conversation?"
Palutena smiled sweetly.
"Shopping intuition."
Pit accepted that answer immediately.
Back with Stocking and Scanty
Scanty looked at her.
"So… what's stopping you from telling the truth? And, like… how many letters did you even send?"
Stocking answered without hesitation.
"Two hundred seventy-seven."
Scanty blinked.
"...Isn't that the angel number for live with no regrets?"
Stocking froze.
Her eyes went wide. Very slowly, she looked down at her hands.
"...Oh."
Scanty pushed her glasses up, smirking.
"So not only did you lie to an angel… you lied to an angel using motivational destiny numbers."
Stocking buried her face in her knees.
"I didn't plan that! I just kept writing whenever I felt guilty!"
Scanty crossed her arms.
"Congratulations. You turned emotional avoidance into a lifestyle."
Stocking groaned.
"What am I supposed to do now?! If he sees me, he's going to smile at me with those stupid honest eyes and then I'll explode."
Scanty tapped her chin.
"...Option one: run."
Stocking nodded immediately.
"...Tempting."
"Option two," Scanty continued, "tell the truth like a functional adult."
Stocking stared at her.
"...Impossible."
Scanty sighed.
"Then option three. Fashion disguise."
Stocking's head snapped up.
"...Go on."
Scanty grabbed a random oversized coat, sunglasses, and a floppy hat from a nearby rack and shoved them into Stocking's arms.
"Congratulations. You are now a mysterious gothic tourist."
Stocking threw on the disguise in two seconds flat.
She peeked out again.
Pit was still laughing with Palutena, holding shopping bags.
Stocking whispered.
"...Okay. Operation: Avoid Angel Boy."
Scanty gave a thumbs-up.
"May chaos guide you."
Meanwhile, Pit paused mid-step.
He turned his head slightly.
"...I feel like someone just committed a crime against honesty nearby."
Palutena smiled.
"Multiverse vibes."
Pit nodded.
"Yeah… that checks out."
Stocking, now disguised as a gothic tourist who definitely did not belong in a supermarket aisle, peeked around the corner.
Pit was still there.
Trying on another outfit.
This time, a simple black hoodie and comfortable pants. Nothing fancy. Nothing battle-ready. Just… normal.
Palutena looked him over.
"Better," she said. "You look approachable."
Pit tugged the hoodie sleeve. "Is that good?"
"Very," Palutena replied. "People relax around you already. This helps."
Pit smiled, small and genuine.
"Okay. I like it."
Stocking's heart did a backflip.
Scanty leaned beside her, whispering.
"Still running?"
Stocking whispered back.
"I lied to an angel for over a year, Scanty."
Scanty nodded.
"Excellent point. Run."
They turned to leave.
And immediately walked straight into someone.
A soft bonk.
"Ow—!"
Stocking stumbled back.
A hand caught her shoulder before she could fall.
"Whoa, careful!"
Pit's voice.
Warm. Close.
Stocking froze like a sinner caught in confession.
Slowly… she looked up.
Pit stood there in his new clothes, wings tucked in, shopping bags in hand, smiling politely.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Stocking's brain left the chat.
Scanty, behind her, whispered.
"Say something."
Stocking squeaked.
"...Nice hoodie."
Pit blinked.
"Uh… thanks?"
Palutena stepped closer, eyes narrowing just slightly.
"Pit, dear. Do you know this girl?"
Pit tilted his head.
Stocking's hands shook under her coat.
Scanty leaned in and whispered again.
"Tell him."
Stocking panicked.
"NOPE."
She grabbed Scanty's hand.
And bolted.
Like a cartoon villain fleeing a crime scene.
"WAIT—!" Pit called, startled.
But they were already gone, disappearing into another aisle.
Pit stood there, confused.
"...Did I just get robbed?"
Palutena laughed softly.
"No, dear. You just met trouble."
Pit scratched his head.
"...I keep doing that."
Two aisles away, Stocking collapsed against a shelf, breathing hard.
Scanty adjusted her glasses.
"Well. That went terribly."
Stocking covered her face.
"I touched his hand."
Scanty blinked.
"...That's your concern?"
Stocking peeked through her fingers.
"He still has the same grip."
Scanty placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You are a disaster."
Stocking nodded.
"Yes."
Meanwhile, Pit looked down at his hand.
"...Why does my hand feel weird now?"
Palutena smiled like she knew exactly what happened.
"Oh Pit."
Later, back in the Smash House.
Pit stepped into the dorm, shopping bags in hand, hoodie sleeves slightly rolled up. His wings flicked once as he adjusted the strap of a bag on his shoulder.
Ren looked up from his desk.
"Not bad," he said, giving the outfit a once-over.
Pit smiled. "Thanks. Palutena picked it for me."
From the other bed, Sephiroth turned a page of his book with slow, deliberate grace.
"We can see that," he said without looking up.
Pit blinked.
"...Is that a compliment or an insult?"
Snake, sitting on the floor cleaning a gun that absolutely did not need cleaning, answered without missing a beat.
"Yes."
Ren huffed a small laugh.
Pit sighed, but he was smiling anyway. He sat on his bed and tugged the hoodie sleeve again.
"It's… comfortable," he admitted. "Kinda weird not wearing armor."
Sephiroth finally looked up. His silver eyes scanned Pit for a moment.
"You look less like a soldier," he said. "And more like a person."
Pit froze.
Ren blinked.
Snake raised an eyebrow.
Silence.
Pit's face warmed just a little.
"...Oh. Thanks."
Sephiroth returned to his book like he hadn't just dropped a philosophical bomb.
Ren leaned back in his chair.
"Welcome to civilian life, angel boy."
Snake smirked.
"Try not to start any holy wars in casual wear."
Pit laughed, flopping backward onto the bed.
"...No promises."
And from somewhere down the hall, a faint, panicked whisper echoed.
"Why is his hand still warm—?!"
Scanty's voice followed.
"Stocking, stop being dramatic."
Pit stared at the ceiling.
"...This house is really weird."
But his smile stayed.
To be continued
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