The moment the door creaked open, a burst of vibrant energy spilled into the hallway. Katsuragi Kokoro, still holding the heavy box in his arms, took a cautious step into the cosplay clubroom—and immediately felt like he had stepped into an entirely different universe.
The room was wide, larger than he expected. The back wall was covered in posters of popular anime characters, ranging from magical girls with oversized wands to armored warriors mid-battle. Mannequins stood by the corners, dressed in intricate costumes: some frilly and pink, others dark and menacing. Long tables lined the center of the room, stacked with sewing kits, makeup palettes, and sketchbooks opened to half-finished outfit designs.
Wigs of all colors were perched on stands—bubblegum pink, sky blue, electric green. A group of girls huddled around a laptop near the window, their eyes locked in unison as they studied a scene from an action-packed anime. One of them scribbled rapidly in a notebook, pausing only to rewind a certain movement. It looked like they were dissecting a character's behavior or gesture, studying it with the intensity of scholars preparing for final exams.
It was chaos—but the good kind. The kind of organized mess that only passionate people could produce.
The girl with black hair, still slightly out of breath from carrying the boxes, gestured politely.
"You can just set that over there in the corner, thank you," she said, her voice soft but clear.
Kokoro nodded without much fuss and walked across the room. A few heads turned as he passed—unsurprising, since he was the only boy in sight.
"Wait... who's that?" one of the girls whispered.
"Did we even recruit a boy this year?" asked another, blinking in confusion.
"Maybe he's... her boyfriend?" someone guessed, looking toward the black-haired girl.
That suggestion caused a visible ripple. The girl's expression froze for half a second before her face turned beet red.
"W-What?! N-No! He just helped me carry the boxes!" she sputtered, her hands flailing in protest.
"We're not related either!" she added quickly, just in case.
Kokoro, on the other hand, wasn't fazed. He didn't even look in their direction as he placed the box gently down. He had learned to tune out this sort of noise a long time ago. Being mistaken for someone's brother or boyfriend was nothing new—especially with his looks.
The girl fidgeted awkwardly beside him as the others continued to tease her with exaggerated winks and knowing grins.
"Anyway..." Kokoro dusted off his hands and turned to face the girl. "Thanks. But I still have a club meeting I need to get to."
"Oh! Right! Thank you again for helping," she said, her voice softer now, tinged with genuine gratitude.
With a nod, Kokoro stepped back out into the hallway, letting the door shut behind him. The muffled laughter and chatter of the cosplay club faded slightly as he walked, replaced again by the bustling ambience of the fourth floor.
He let out a soft breath and smiled to himself.
That club room had felt like a whole other planet. The kind of place that people built out of shared love and fandom, no matter how chaotic or strange it looked from the outside. It wasn't so different from what he dreamed of building one day—a place where creativity flowed, where weirdness wasn't just tolerated but celebrated.
As he continued down the hallway, Kokoro's mind replayed flashes from the room: girls spinning in cosplay dresses, sewing machines buzzing, someone using a blow dryer to style a gravity-defying wig.
"Cosplay, huh..." he muttered to himself, imagining how those girls might look dancing in public places like he'd seen online. His cheeks flushed ever so slightly at the thought.
But for now, he had another destination in mind.
The manga and anime club meeting still awaited.
_________________________________________
The hallway was quieter now. After a handful of winding turns and climbing one last staircase, Kokoro finally found himself standing before the Manga and Anime Club room. The sign above the door was hand-painted in bold brushstrokes, the characters outlined in shimmering silver ink, with tiny doodles of chibi faces, magical girls, and mechas along the corners. It looked lovingly chaotic—just like what he'd expect from a club like this.
Kokoro hesitated for just a second, adjusting the strap of his bag and steadying his breath.
Here goes...
He slid the door open.
A gust of fresh air greeted him first. The large window at the far end of the room was wide open, letting sunlight pour in and dance across the wooden floor. Outside, he could hear the faint rustling of tree leaves and the distant caw of a crow. The room itself felt open and creative, like a mix between a studio and a sanctuary.
A long table sat prominently at the center, with chairs tucked around it. Clustered on top were sketchbooks, half-drunk bottles of ramune, pens, and small figurines in various poses—like they were used as reference models. Along the corners of the room were desks, some with drawing tablets still glowing faintly, others littered with eraser shavings and clipped manga pages. There was even a small couch pushed against the wall, its cushions slightly squished from use, and beside it stood a shelf packed with manga—volumes of shounen epics, romantic comedies, slice-of-life dramas, and even some obscure indie titles that only the most seasoned fans would recognize.
The room didn't smell like dust or ink. It smelled like fresh paper, lemon soda, and just a hint of determination. It smelled like home—for the right kind of person.
Kokoro's eyes trailed toward the center table, where several students were seated in a semi-circle. They were deep in conversation, some holding storyboards, others holding digital tablets. One girl was animatedly pointing at a page while another nodded in agreement. They looked like a team—each one different, yet completely in sync.
And then, from among the group, someone looked up.
She was hard to miss.
Pink hair as soft and vibrant as sakura petals spilled over her shoulders, glowing under the filtered sunlight. Her glasses shimmered slightly, catching the light as she tilted her head—and when her pink eyes locked onto his, her lips curled into a knowing, gentle smile.
"There you are," she said softly, patting the empty chair beside her. "Come sit with us."
Kokoro blinked.
He hadn't expected that.
His gaze swept over the room again—sure enough, the only available seat left was... right next to her. His heart thudded softly. Not because he was nervous, exactly—but because this pink-haired senior, with her mature elegance and relaxed confidence, always threw his mental compass slightly off course.
He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded awkwardly.
"Y-Yeah. Sure."
As he made his way toward the seat, his ears picked up the continued chatter around the table. Discussions about panel flow, voice acting potential, and the upcoming cultural festival swirled in the air like leaves in the wind. But for just a moment, all Kokoro could focus on was the empty chair beside her, and the way her gaze lingered on him—curious, amused, maybe even a little pleased.
This club might be more lively than I thought, he mused silently, cheeks still faintly flushed.
He sat down.
And the door gently slid shut behind him.
____________________________________________
The chair was warm.
Or maybe that was just Kokoro's nerves catching up to him. He wasn't sure. The air inside the room was pleasant—fresh thanks to the open window, yet infused with the subtle hum of artistic energy. Every student seated at the long table was animated in their own way—some talking with their hands, some tapping a pen thoughtfully against their chin, and others lost in the quiet rhythm of doodling in their sketchpads.
And seated beside him, the pink-haired senpai—graceful and composed—was calmly watching him out of the corner of her eye. She hadn't said anything since inviting him to sit, but her presence was disarming in the gentlest way. Kokoro felt like he had just sat next to the heroine of a quiet romance manga, the kind with soft frames and pastel tones.
Just as he began to relax—
"Ehh?! So this is the first-year student we got!?"
The sudden voice hit like a sound effect panel from a slapstick gag manga—BAM!
Kokoro straightened in his seat, startled.
From across the table, a girl had popped her head up like a curious animal. She had short, lime-colored hair that practically glowed under the sunlight and a pair of oversized, round glasses that made her eyes look massive—round, animated, full of chaotic sparkle. Her smile stretched from ear to ear, so wide it was almost comedic, and her cheeks puffed ever so slightly in joy like she was a supporting character made entirely of serotonin.
She leaned forward, hands gripping the table like she was ready to vault over it.
"Senpai, is this really him?" she asked the pink-haired girl, her voice loud but not unfriendly.
The pink-haired senior nodded with an amused smile. "Mm. He's the one."
The lime-haired girl let out a gleeful "Yoshh!" like she just scored a rare gacha pull.
Her whole face lit up with genuine enthusiasm—eyes sparkling behind those thick lenses, her energy contagious. "He's perfect! Fresh blood! First-year artist energy! Ahhh, this is gonna be fun!"
Kokoro blinked, unsure whether to feel honored or hunted. He glanced at the pink-haired senior, who seemed to be holding back a chuckle.
"Introduce him to everyone!" the green-haired girl insisted, practically bouncing in her seat.
The pink-haired girl nodded again, calm and composed like always.
But then the green-haired girl turned her full attention on Kokoro—and he felt it.
That look.
It was like being scanned head to toe by an overenthusiastic otaku elder sister who had just found a new kouhai to spoil. Her smile was so big it made her eyes crinkle behind her glasses, and her hands were balled into excited little fists in front of her chest.
"Welcome to the club!" she beamed, voice brimming with sunshine. "I'm looking forward to seeing your work!"
Kokoro stiffened under the intensity of her joy. He hadn't even said anything yet, but she looked at him like he had already saved the club from bankruptcy and drawn the next best-selling manga.
"I—uh, th-thank you," he muttered, unsure whether to smile or blush or hide behind his bangs. His voice came out awkward, like a student caught in a pop quiz he didn't study for.
The green-haired girl gave him a final cheerful nod, then spun around and skipped off—yes, skipped—back to one of the side desks, where she immediately began fiddling with a tablet, humming to herself with giddy energy.
Kokoro let out a slow breath.
He glanced back at the pink-haired senpai, who was now clearly holding back laughter, one hand gently resting on her cheek. "She's a bit energetic," she said, amused.
"You don't say," Kokoro muttered under his breath, cheeks still red.
The club was turning out to be... a lot more colorful than he expected.
And somehow, he had a feeling this was just the beginning.