Interspecies Potion Solution Part 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 3: “Centaur Clothing Catastrophe”

The mall doors slid open with a soft whoosh, revealing the polished marble floors and endless stretches of glass storefronts beyond. The air smelled faintly of cinnamon pretzels, fried foods, and just a hint of desperation.

Kirika took a deep breath and trotted forward carefully, her hooves clicking faintly with every step.

At her side was her “elite” team: Mero, elegant and serene as always; Lala, dramatic and draped in flowing black layers despite the sunny weather; and Cerea, trotting at Kirika’s flank like an anxious, armor-clad honor guard.

Together, they made their way into the mall, trying to blend in.

They failed instantly.

Heads turned. Shoppers gawked. A small child dropped his ice cream in awe.

Kirika grimaced. “Yeah. Super subtle.”

“We art akin to a migrating herd, most splendid yet… noticeable,” Cerea said, trying and failing to to protect Kirika’s equally large form.

Mero clapped her hands together lightly. “Oh, but this is delightful! The architecture of this shopping temple is truly splendid. It’s been such a while since the last time I went into a place like this. I can’t wait to go shopping again~ And with the master no less~”

Lala strode forward, arms crossed, head high, dark cloak flaring behind her dramatically. “Fools. Let them stare. For soon, this vessel shall be adorned in garbs befitting the Harbinger of the Great Eclipse.”

Kirika blinked. “We’re just here to buy dresses, Lala.”

“Dresses of Doom!” Lala corrected, her voice booming slightly in the open mall acoustics.

A few more bystanders stopped to stare.

Kirika groaned quietly, speeding up her steps. “Okay. Mission one: Find a clothing store that can actually accommodate us and is big enough to not panic at the sight of two centaurs, a goth prophet, and a princess from Atlantis.”

“I concur,” Cerea said seriously, giving Kirika’s plain wrap-top and borrowed shorts a once-over so judgmental it could’ve curdled milk. “We must outfit thee properly, Mistress Kirika. Garments of dignity and grace shall surely reduce the stares thou dost suffer.”

Kirika shot her a flat look. “Cerea, I think the ‘no stares’ plan kinda died about five minutes ago.”

Still, Mero twirled beside them, hands clasped in delight. “There are so many charming boutiques! Perhaps we should select one based on their aesthetic virtues. The color of their banners, the grace of their mannequins… or the softness of their lighting~!”

Kirika grumbled under her breath. “I vote for the one where I can fit through the door without needing to butter my flanks first.”

“At ease, Mistress,” Cerea said proudly, lifting her chin. “I happen to know of a shop within this mall that specializes in clothing for extra-species like ourselves. Stately Strides. Spacious aisles. Custom tailoring. A true haven!”

“Oh, thank god.” Kirika sighed in relief. “I was starting to think we’d have to try squeezing me into a Build-A-Bear outfit.”

Mero giggled behind her hand. “How adorable that would be~! Yet... perhaps inadvisable.”

Meanwhile, Lala marched onward, her cloak flaring dramatically. “No door shall bar the Children of the Eclipse. Let all fear our arrival!”

"Yeah. Super normal. We're totally blending in." Kirika pinched the bridge of her nose, then exhaled slowly. “Alright. Stately Strides. Let’s just get this over with before Lala summons a dark lord or something.”

“I make no promises,” Lala intoned solemnly.

With that, the small but mighty parade of mythological chaos trotted briskly toward Stately Strides—Kirika silently praying that their shopping trip would at least stay mostly dignified.

She had a feeling it would not.

The store was bright, wide, and wonderfully open, with thick reinforced mannequins modeling outfits of all shapes and sizes. On the glass above the entrance was a simple, proud sign: Stately Strides — Clothing for Every Body.

Kirika barely had time to take in the layout before a blur of movement zipped up to them.

"Hello! Hello!! Welcome, honored guests!" a cheerful voice cried.

A girl with messy red hair and twitching catlike ears bounded up, wearing a black-and-gold staff vest. She beamed at them, her sharp teeth just barely poking over her lower lip in an excited grin.

"Welcome to Stately Strides! I am Sphia, a Sphinx from Egypt here part time during my college exchange year! I am most happy to help, yes!" she said, bowing so deeply her long tail flicked straight into the air. 

Kirika blinked. "Oh. Uh, thanks! Nice to meet you."

Sphia's ears perked even higher. "You—! You are… centaur! New customer! Very rare! Special care needed!" She clapped her hands excitedly. "I help! I help you good, yes?"

Kirika smiled awkwardly, noting how Mero covered a giggle behind her hand and Cerea stood stiffly at attention like she’d just met a drill sergeant. Lala simply stared, dramatic cloak billowing slightly from the air conditioning.

"That's… very kind. Thanks," Kirika said. "Actually, yeah, I could really use the help."

Sphia bounced slightly on her toes, tail swishing. "Good! Please, tell me needs! What problems? How to help?"

Kirika paused for a heartbeat. Obviously, she couldn’t say "I used to be a guy until a snake girl spilled a forbidden potion on me." So she cleared her throat and lied as smoothly as she could.

"Well, I, uh… just moved here recently. A few days ago. But…" she scratched the back of her neck awkwardly. "My luggage got lost in shipping. So I’ve been borrowing clothes from friends until it shows up."

Sphia gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. "Oh no! Terrible misfortune! Luggage loss, very sad!"

Kirika nodded solemnly. "Exactly. It's been… rough."

"And you need… clothes, yes? Until luggage returns?" Sphia asked, her large golden eyes shimmering with sympathetic horror.

"Yeah. Just a few things to get by. I don't know a lot about fashion, so…" Kirika gestured at Mero, Lala, and Cerea behind her. "I brought some friends to help pick stuff out."

Sphia bobbed her head eagerly. "Good idea! Friends with many ideas make better results!"

"Hopefully." Kirika laughed lightly, then reached into her pocket. "But well, I do have made some notes on my sizes. I hope this helps?"

Sphia leaned in closer, her whole posture practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "Yes! Yes helps! You, honored centaur lady, you wait little moment, yes? I will go check stock with expert. Bring special selections. Taur shapes, stretch fits, breathable fabrics… good for strong body, yes!"

"Uh, yeah. That sounds great," Kirika said, blinking at the sheer volume of energy radiating off the small sphinx girl.

"I bring! You try! You like!" Sphia declared, spinning on one heel. She pointed sharply toward a corner of the store where the shelves and racks got noticeably taller and wider. A painted sign above read:
Large Taur Section

"You go there! Look! Find things you like! Meet me at changing rooms! Ten minutes, yes!"

Kirika nodded. "Got it."

With a bright nod and a whoosh of her tail, Sphia sprinted off toward the stock room.

There was a short silence.

Kirika exhaled slowly. "Alright. Guess we’re going Large Taur browsing."

“That girl was adorable, wasn’t she?” Mero clapped her hands softly. "I would love to give her a raise for her enthusiasm alone."

"Forward!" Lala intoned, pointing dramatically into the store. "Onward, to clothe the Herald of the Eclipse!"

Cerea just huffed quietly, still recovering from the whirlwind encounter with the sphinx girl.

Kirika chuckled under her breath and trotted forward, hooves clicking gently on the polished floors as they made their way deeper into the section built for bodies as big — and complicated — as hers.

Somehow, she had a feeling this shopping trip was about to get a lot more interesting.

The Large Taur Section turned out to be even bigger than Kirika expected—rows upon rows of oversized clothes on reinforced racks, the fabrics varying from simple casuals to elegant ceremonial wear. It felt weirdly intimidating.

Mero was already gracefully sifting through the nearest rack, her fingers brushing along each hanger like she was appraising fine art. Her face wore a soft smile, but Kirika noticed how often she shook her head lightly, moving past outfit after outfit. Picky, apparently.

Lala wasn’t even pretending to shop. She solemnly pushed Mero’s wheelchair wherever Mero wandered, her dark cloak trailing behind her like a ghostly shadow. Occasionally, she'd poke a particularly frilly dress with a single finger, as if suspicious it might bite.

Cerea was deeper into another aisle, carefully inspecting tunics and gowns. At first Kirika assumed she was searching for centaur-appropriate styles, but the way Cerea held a pale blue embroidered blouse against her own chest, thoughtfully tilting her head... Yeah. Maybe not exclusively for Kirika.

And as for Kirika herself?
She just stood there.
Frozen.

She didn’t even know where to begin. She’d been hopeless at clothes shopping when she was still Kimihito. Now? In a new body, with a centaur’s proportions, four legs, a tail, and a chest that defied physics? She might as well have been trying to shop for a UFO.

She took a few tentative steps down the aisle, looking at shirts sized for torsos twice as wide as normal, pants stitched into elaborate wraps that could accommodate multiple body types, armored vests, breezy dresses. It all blurred together into a dizzying wall of options.
Kirika exhaled slowly.
Yeah. No way she was figuring this out alone.

Luckily, she didn’t have to.

Before she realized it, ten minutes had passed. Sphia appeared again like a cheerful whirlwind, rolling a cart almost the size of a dinner table, stacked high with neatly folded clothes in all kinds of fabrics and colors.

Mero and Cerea converged on the changing room area at the same time, each carrying a small armful of selections. Even Lala had picked up a dark, ominous-looking set of garments labeled “Formal Evening Wear - Ceremonial” and dumped them unceremoniously onto a bench.

For a fleeting moment, Kirika dared to hope.
Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad.

That hope died the moment Sphia clapped her hands brightly and said, "Best way to decide, dear honored centaur! Try all! One by one! Find what sings to your soul!"

Kirika stared at the cart piled nearly shoulder-high with clothing. She glanced at the proud, expectant faces of her friends. She sighed deeply, steeling herself for the inevitable.

This was going to take a while.

The heavy changing room curtain shuddered shut.
Behind it: shuffling, muttering, a few ominous thumps.
A long pause.

Then—

The curtain was drawn back.

Kirika stood there, shoulders stiff, wearing a massive, flowing gown straight out of a German fairytale. Layers of soft blue and white satin wrapped her upper body, while intricate golden embroidery traced the seams down her equine lower half. A delicate floral tiara sat tilted on her head like some reluctant queen.

Mero clapped her hands over her mouth in pure delight.
“Exquisite! A vision of grace! A centaurian Cinderella~!”

Even Cerea and Lala stared, speechless.

Kirika just stood there, grimacing like someone who had been shoved into a dollhouse and told to smile.

Sphia, peeking from the side, beamed. “Ah! Very popular, yes! Many centaur girls have knight hearts… but also princess dreams! Secret guilty pleasure, wearing pretty, noble dress!”

Kirika shifted her hooves awkwardly. The fabric tugged weirdly across her barrel and she was almost afraid to move, like she might knock over a display just by breathing wrong. “Yeah, that’s… nice and all,” she said flatly, “but I’m not about to star in Snow White and the Seven Saddle Straps anytime soon.”

The curtain swished shut again.

More rustling. Louder this time. Something clattered to the floor. Someone cursed under their breath (probably Kirika).

Then—

The curtain snapped open.

This time, Kirika was clad in what looked like a hybrid between a knight’s training uniform and a fantasy novel cosplay. Faux steel breastplate, a dark riding cloak thrown rakishly over one shoulder, a crest-embroidered tabard draped over her flanks.

She looked... kind of awesome. Like a heroic figure galloping across a battlefield.

Cerea practically glowed with pride. “Magnificent! Truly, thou wert born for valor!”

Mero’s hands twitched at her sides. She coughed delicately into her fist. “I… um… I have the sudden, uncontrollable desire to… to ride you.”

Lala crossed her arms solemnly. “Likewise. Such is the gravitational pull of the Eclipse Knight.”

Kirika paled. “Nope. No riding. Not negotiable. I learned my lesson.”

Sphia, practically vibrating with enthusiasm, explained, “Many centaur girls are knight-souled! So designers make comfortable training clothes that still feel noble! Movement ease, fabric flexibility, armored look!”

Kirika adjusted the tabard awkwardly, feeling the fake plate shifting against her chest. “It’s cool looking, but… way too much work just to walk around in.”
The curtain slammed shut again.

The shuffling behind the curtain this time was ominous. Heavy. A long sigh of resignation echoed out into the changing area.

Then—

The curtain opened.

Kirika emerged dressed in deep black from head to hoof. A flowing high-collared coat with silver accents swirled around her, while lace-trimmed gloves adorned her hands. Her flanks were covered by fitted dark velvet wraps, and a long cloak billowed dramatically with even the slightest movement.

She looked like the secret boss of a JRPG. The optional boss. The one that required three weeks of grinding to defeat.

Lala slammed her staff into the floor, voice booming. “BEHOLD! THE FINAL FORM OF THE HARBINGER OF ARMAGEDDON! THE DOOM BRINGER OF THE END!!”

Cerea stared, utterly lost for words.
Mero just blinked slowly, her mouth open slightly in horror—or admiration, it was hard to tell.

Kirika looked down at herself, then slowly raised her gaze to the others, completely deadpan.

Sphia peeked around, tilting her head thoughtfully.
“Ah… this style made for Nightmares, yes? Dark horses. Like centaur cousins, but more… scary ghost. Very popular with edgy girls.”

Kirika said nothing.
She simply sighed, reached out, and yanked the curtain shut again with a heavy, world-weary fwump.

There was a collective silence outside.
Then a very faint, very exhausted voice from inside:

“…Next.”

The curtain slid open once more.

This time, it was different.

Gone were the heavy cloaks, the faux armor, the dramatic frills.

Kirika stood in a simple, flowing sundress. A soft ivory base patterned with delicate blue flowers that trailed along the fabric like a gentle breeze across a meadow. It draped naturally over her torso, hugging just enough to hint at her curves without feeling restrictive, and split at the waist into a pair of light wraps that flowed down her equine flanks.

It was easy. It was comfortable. It was… pretty.

Not loud. Not theatrical. Not trying to make a statement.

Just… nice.

Cerea, Mero, and even Lala stared for a long moment, cheeks dusted pink.

Cerea cleared her throat and looked away hastily, muttering something about the sanctity of noble purity. Mero pressed a hand to her cheek and smiled warmly. Even Lala seemed at a rare loss for dramatic proclamations, blinking slowly as if she'd seen a vision.

Kirika shifted slightly, running a hand over the fabric. It felt right. Undeniably girly, sure… but somehow… still her.

“Ahhh~!” Sphia chirped from the side, her tail lashing happily. “This one was my choice, yes! From casual new collection! Me and manager picked with much care! Light! Breathable! Easy for taur shapes! No pinch, no snag, very good for running, sitting, daily living!”

Kirika smiled, a real smile this time, and nodded. “It’s perfect.”

There really wasn’t much more to say.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t armored. It wasn’t doomsday-chic.

It was just a dress. A good one. And for the first time since stepping into the mall, Kirika felt a little less like an alien creature and a little more like… herself.

With a faint chuckle, she reached for the curtain again. “Alright. Next.”

The soft swish of fabric echoed as the curtain closed once more, ready for whatever ridiculous outfit came next.

—

The late afternoon sun bathed the streets in warm gold as the four girls made their way home, the buzz of the mall slowly fading behind them.

No one had expected the “quick shopping trip” to turn into a full-fledged modeling marathon. Mero still shook her head in disbelief, her soft giggle slipping out. “Truly… two entire hours. How Sphia maintains such unrelenting cheerfulness is a mystery most profound…”

Lala, gliding silently behind her wheelchair, offered her insight with a solemn nod. “Clearly, she has bound herself to a demon of tireless vigor. No mortal form could contain such power unaided.”

Kirika snorted, adjusting the light bags hanging across her back. Cerea walked at her side, carrying the lion’s share, though not by Kirika’s original plan.

Earlier, Cerea had puffed up proudly and declared, “Thy burdens shalt be mine to bear, Mistress Kirika!”

Which Kirika immediately shot down by splitting the load in half.

It wasn’t even that much, just a few essential tops, a pair of proper fitted shorts, some casual wear, and the prize of the day: the soft, flowery sundress she was wearing right now.

The fabric fluttered lightly in the breeze as they walked. Kirika caught Cerea glancing at her again, blushing furiously.

The knightly Cerea just kept trying (and failing) not to stare. She mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Too adorable… unworthy of such purity…”

Kirika smirked mischievously. “All thanks to you~” she teased, leaning in slightly.

Before Cerea could retreat into chivalric panic, Kirika reached over and grabbed her hand.

Cerea.exe immediately crashed. 

The poor centaur stiffened like a statue, a fiery blush spreading from her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears. She didn’t even react when they hit a bump in the sidewalk—just kept walking in perfect, stunned autopilot, bags gently swaying from her back.

Mero let out a delicate laugh behind her hand. 

Lala chuckled darkly. “Behold, the spell of the Eclipse Queen claims another soul.”

Kirika just laughed outright, squeezing Cerea’s hand once before letting go, letting the poor girl reboot in her own time.

It wasn’t the most graceful shopping day. It wasn’t even the most organized.

But as they walked home together, the weight of the bags felt lighter than expected. And the laughter? That made everything feel just a little bit easier.

A successful day, after all.

—

Nothing beats a successful shopping trip. Definitely no hijinks. Nope. None at all.