Chapter 13: Cosplay Festival I

At City Z, near the station, late evening, a cosplay festival was underway. Colorful paper lanterns hung above the streets, their glow mixing with neon shop signs. The air carried the warm scent of grilled yakitori, candied apples, and festival smoke. Stalls were lined shoulder to shoulder, each one shouting with its own noise – game vendors ringing bells, food sellers calling for customers, and the chatter of teenagers in bright costumes drifting like static through the crowd.

Fumino, Meai, Sakura, and Rinn were eating and hanging out together, weaving through the lively flow of cosplayers with their snacks in hand.

“So many people here, huh?” Sakura said, brushing her bangs back.

“Pretty crowded, isn’t it? Still… it would be more fun if Yukawa-kun were here,” Meai added, cheeks puffed with dango as she spoke.

Sakura smirked. “You mean so he could carry all your food for you? You’re already dripping sauce on your sleeve.”

“Wha—no, that’s not—hey!” Meai protested, fumbling to hide the stain.

Fumino giggled softly, then glanced at the festival lights. “Still… Yukawa-kun probably wouldn’t enjoy this kind of crowd. He always looks uncomfortable when things get too noisy, yet acts like it doesn’t bother him at all.” Her tone lingered just a little too long, thoughtful, almost fond.

Sakura caught the look and raised a brow. “Oh? You notice him that closely?”

Fumino blinked, flustered. “Eh? N-no, I just… happened to see it once, that’s all.” She quickly turned to Rinn. “Didn’t you say you wanted to try the candied apples, Rii-chan?”

Rinn chuckled, letting her off the hook. “Smooth redirect, Fumino-chan.”

Meai leaned forward mischievously. “Hmm… now I’m curious.”

“Stop it, you guys,” Fumino muttered, ears tinged pink as she walked ahead toward the stalls.

Sakura smiled knowingly. “She’s not denying it though.”

The four of them burst into light laughter, their voices blending with the fireworks beginning to crackle faintly in the distance.

Meanwhile, beside an alleyway—

A black express van was parked. Tokio had just finished loading all the bags inside.

“Aggh, finally free from the chains of work,” Tokio sighed, stretching his arms. He added, “Thanks a bunch for the help, Miorin. It would’ve been a nightmare carrying these killing toys through public transport.”

“You flatter me too much. This is only my duty, Mr. Yukawa. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I shall take my leave,” Miorin replied.

She opened the driver’s door, slid in smoothly, turned the key, and with a low rumble of the engine, drove the van out of the alley.

Tokio waved lazily. Through the rear glass, Miorin glanced back once before vanishing into the dust at the horizon.

Tokio sat down on a roadside bench. Blade was already sprawled across it like a man half-dead, arms dangling.

“Dude, I’m exhausted. The Boss just uses us like manual labor,” Blade groaned.

“Not gonna lie… agreed with that,” Tokio muttered. “Though today was a tough day, wasn’t it?”

A moment later, Eyepatch returned from a vending machine, carrying three cans. A bright orange juice for Blade, a lemon soda for himself, and a cold coffee for Tokio. He tossed them casually.

“Here. Catch.”

Blade somehow managed to grab his midair. Tokio, however, fumbled. The can clattered to the ground, forcing him to bend down and pick it up with a sigh.

Just then, Tokio’s phone buzzed.

“Aaah, now what? Who the heck’s trying to summon me—” he pulled the phone from his pocket, annoyed. His eyes widened. “Wait… it’s the Boss Lady. Hang on a sec, guys.”

He stood, stepping under the shade of a nearby tree to answer Shina’s call.

On the bench, only Blade and Eyepatch remained. Blade sat upright now, while Eyepatch stood sipping his soda. The sharp hiss of Blade opening his can echoed in the quiet alley.

“Hey, bro. Tell me something,” Blade said, his tone low, almost shadowed with concern.

Eyepatch tilted his head. “Hmm?”

“Why’d you pull that stunt back there? That was dangerous, you know.”

“You mean the explosives under my sleeve?” Eyepatch chuckled lightly.

Blade looked up sharply. “Huh?”

“They weren’t real. Just a few wooden blocks wrapped in colored wires. And the circuit? That was actually something Tokio-senpai built using old capacitors, transistors, a couple of LEDs, and a DC battery wired on some junk PCB he scavenged from a dusty old TV remote.”

“What!?” Blade nearly choked on his drink. “When the hell did you even set that up!?”

“I had a feeling something like that might happen… there was always a possibility,” Eyepatch replied calmly. “Remember when I called Tokio-senpai after the Boss left? I talked it over with him then. He agreed, and made that realistic-looking suicide bomb from scraps.”

“Damn, that dude really is something,” Blade sighed, taking a long gulp from his can.

Just then, Tokio returned after finishing the call with Shina. His expression was sour.

“Aaghh, now this is becoming a pain in the ass,” Tokio muttered, clearly annoyed.

“What happened, dude? Did the Boss Lady dump another pile of labor work on us? Aghh, this is too much… she’s really playing with my temper now,” Blade groaned, rubbing his temple.

“Nah, not exactly. She said she, Memeko, and the others are coming to the festival. Told us not to go home yet and to wait near the station.” Tokio shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Hey, couldn’t you just say no?” Blade asked.

“And she would actually listen?” Tokio shot back flatly.

Eyepatch raised his can, sipping calmly before speaking. “Memeko also texted me while I was buying the drinks. She said someone, using an anonymous account, posted online that there’ll be a terrorist attack at the festival crowd tonight… that’s why they’re coming.”

“Huh? Just an excuse to show up at the carnival and eat.” Tokio leaned back on the bench, hands behind his head.

“Definitely. You’re starting to read the eater well, dude,” Blade smirked.

“I’ve seen this kind of drama before, you know.”

“From a TV show?”

The two burst out laughing, their voices carrying lightly under the festival fireworks.

In another corner of the cosplay festival –

Bright lanterns swayed overhead, their colors mixing with the glow of vendor stalls. The scent of grilled yakitori and candied apples drifted through the crowd, blending with bursts of laughter and the occasional crack of fireworks.

“Ugh, this place is so crowded. We’ve been patrolling forever and no one’s even lookin’ suspicious,” Kanako complained, lazily chewing on her lollipop.

“What are you saying? We just got here barely half an hour ago,” Kisara replied, her voice calm and polite. She added softly, “Besides… we must keep a close eye on everyone. Innocence cannot be judged by appearances alone.”

Kanako rolled her eyes and puffed her cheeks irritably.

“Tch, so boring. Some random idiot posts threats online, and Miyori-san dumps us with patrol duty. Stupid punks wastin’ my time…” She bit down on her lollipop stick with a click, then sighed. “…I’m gettin’ hungry, Aiko-chan. Didn’t even eat lunch today.”

“Same here,” Kisara admitted quietly.

“Ha! Knew it.” Kanako grinned, leaning closer. “Hey, Aiko-chan, what about we grab something? Since we’re at the festival, we shouldn’t miss the chance… besides, we barely get free time.”

“No, we can’t do that, we can’t—” Kisara tried to protest.

But Kanako suddenly grabbed her hand, tugging her along with a mischievous smile.

“Just come! Don’t think too much. We might not get another chance. And patrolling on an empty stomach is a bad habit, you know?”

Laughing, Kanako pulled her reluctant partner straight toward the food stalls, weaving through the crowd.