Once they stepped inside the convention hall, the energy hit them all at once.
The place was packed—wall to wall with people, cameras flashing, and the low hum of constant chatter. Most cosplayers had already arrived, showing off their costumes in the best light they could find.
Naturally, those in the most daring outfits were surrounded by photographers.
Still, if someone walked in wearing a towering EVA Unit-01 suit, they'd probably steal every lens in the room.
"The food here's overpriced," Shirase explained as he guided one woman and one girl through the dense crowd. "Milk tea, snacks—everything costs more than outside. But nobody here really cares about small stuff like that. Oh, and that corner's for luggage storage—also paid, of course."
Kana listened earnestly while keeping a firm hold on Rikka's hand. The girl, meanwhile, kept turning her head in every direction, eyes shining as if she'd stepped into another world.
Shirase's eyes flicked through the crowd. Somewhere among this chaos should be the soccer club. The captain had bragged in the group chat that morning about coming, so the team was likely already wandering around.
"The Kamen Riders are over there!"
Rikka suddenly pointed to the front right, practically bouncing with excitement.
Kana, afraid of losing her in the sea of people, quickly took her hand. "We'll go check it out. Are you coming, Shirase?"
"I'll join you later." Shirase's gaze drifted toward the back. "The soccer guys said they're here too. I'll see if I can find them."
"Okay. I'll take Rikka-chan ahead, then," Kana said, leading the girl away.
Rikka turned back, wanting to say something—but Kana's gentle tug pulled her along before she could.
Shirase pulled out his phone and opened the team chat. As expected, it was buzzing.
[Captain]: Yo, Shirase, you actually came? Knew you couldn't resist the cute girls.
[Fukuda]: I'm in the bathroom. Where are you?
[Hayama]: You too, Shirase? I thought you'd stay home and chill.
Catching the hint, Shirase checked the map and headed toward the restrooms. Might as well say hi—after all, these were teammates who'd fought side by side.
But when he stepped inside, the place was strangely quiet.
Not a single person in sight. Every stall door was closed.
He hesitated, about to send another message—when a faint creak came from behind. One stall door slowly opened.
A pair of muscular legs stepped out. Muscular legs in sheer black stockings.
Shirase's head tilted up in disbelief. Standing before him was a tall "woman" in a frilly black-and-white maid outfit, long blonde wig, perfect makeup—and the unmistakable face of Fukuda.
Shirase froze. His mind stopped processing for a full two seconds. No way. The same Fukuda who tackles like a bulldozer?
Fukuda froze too. Then, scratching his head awkwardly, muttered, "Why'd you come straight here? I was gonna find you later."
Shirase finally found his voice. "You planned to meet me… dressed like this?"
"...No. I was gonna text you first."
"I see." Shirase gave him a slow once-over. "Your skirt's really short, though."
"…"
A silence thick enough to cut through settled over them.
Finally, Shirase sighed. "I've heard there are cross-dressers at conventions, but I didn't expect one of our starting defenders to be among them."
Fukuda laughed weakly. "Please don't tell the captain—I'd be dead."
"I'm not into gossip." Shirase leaned against the sink, curious despite himself. "When'd you get into this, anyway?"
"Maybe around sixth grade? I tried on my sister's skirt once and thought, hey, this feels nice."
"She didn't beat you up?"
"Nah. She caught me but thought I was just playing around. After that, she even helped me try on more stuff."
"…You siblings are something else."
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Just a Chinese way of saying 'you're amazing.'"
They chatted for a while, and Shirase's desire to check out the "cute girls" outside dropped to absolute zero.
After splashing cold water on his face, he asked, "So, who're you supposed to be?"
"Maid Saber—my waifu."
"…You literally became your own waifu?"
"Heh. Guess so."
"Incredible. Saber's popular—you've got tons of competition."
"Not really. I am her now. No rivals left."
"Damn," Shirase muttered. "That's… philosophical, in a terrifying way."
Seeing Shirase's blank stare, Fukuda asked, "You okay?"
"It's complicated. Actually, it's trauma. After this, I'll be suspicious of every cute girl I see."
Fukuda chuckled. "Relax. Sure, there are cross-dressers, but the odds of meeting two in a row—"
The restroom door creaked open again.
In walked another "girl"—a man in a pink wig and flowing dress. He smiled cheerfully at them both and went straight into a stall.
Fukuda went silent. Shirase's expression said everything.
"What were you saying about the odds again?"
"...Touché."
By the time Shirase stepped back into the hall, he'd fully recalibrated his expectations for the day.
Thankfully, every girl he saw now looked safely normal.
He exhaled, brushing off the surreal encounter, and scanned the crowd for Kana and Rikka again.
But before he could spot them, he felt someone approaching from behind—quietly, quickly, too close.
Turning sharply, Shirase instinctively took two steps back, startled by the figure standing right in front of him.
---
T/N: crossdressers are so cuuute