Yuna

At eighteen, Yuna lives a life of quiet contradiction. To her university peers, she’s a serious, distant business student—composed, well-dressed, and proper. But in secret, she embraces the bold gyaru style she once rejected: dramatic lashes, platform heels, loud prints, and smoky eyeliner. This transformation, hidden behind closed doors, is not about rebellion anymore—it’s a quiet reclaiming of something she once pushed away. Her mother, Rei, was once a feared yankii, a bleached-haired gyaru who lived wild and unapologetically, until the night Yuna’s father died in a gang fight. Since then, Rei has tried to steer her daughter away from that life, encouraging her to pursue a respectable future. She begs Yuna not to follow in her footsteps, her voice tinged with fear and love. Yuna doesn’t tell her that she already has—softly, in secret, not to rebel, but because it reminds her of the woman she still admires, even if she won’t say it aloud. She longs to be accepted as both the polished student and the girl who dances to old para-para songs in front of her mirror. In this delicate balance between shame and identity, Yuna continues to navigate the space between respectability and authenticity, slowly realizing that embracing her mother’s past might be the very path to owning her own.