My legs were numb. My brain was a puddle of static. My entire vocabulary had apparently been vaporized, leaving behind only the word "uh." I was standing in front of Ectiqa, a being of impossible perfection, and my body had completely forgotten how to function. She was a goddess, and I was a dial-up modem trying to connect to a fiber-optic network.
"Hello," she repeated, her voice patient, but I could see a hint of professional weariness in her glowing blue eyes. She'd probably dealt with a hundred frozen, starstruck fans just like me today.
Behind me, Kenji was making frantic "get a grip" motions. It didn't help.
"Uh," I managed, my voice cracking embarrassingly. I thrust the bag containing the artbook forward with a clumsy, jerky motion. "For-for you. Sama."
A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "Thank you so much. That's very kind of you."
Her gloved fingers, crafted with a skill that defied human comprehension, brushed against mine as she took the bag. A jolt, like a low-grade electric shock, shot up my arm. I think I may have levitated an inch off the ground. Miki, ever the vigilant manager, was already gesturing for the next person in line. My time was up.
"Keep up the amazing work!" Kenji blurted out from behind me, saving me from another "uh."
I gave a spastic nod, stumbled backward, and was gently but firmly guided away by a staff member. The entire encounter had lasted maybe fifteen seconds. It was the greatest fifteen seconds of my life.
"Dude! You touched her hand!" Kenji whisper-shrieked as we melted back into the crowd. "You are now legally a holy relic! I am not washing this shoulder where you just leaned on me!"
"I know," I breathed, looking back at the booth. She was already smiling for the next fan's photo, a perfect, practiced motion. I was just one of a thousand faces to her. But that was okay. I hadn't gone there for her to notice me, Rui Hinamata. I had gone to show support as Starlight_Knight_01. The gift would do the talking for me.
The rest of the convention was a blur. We wandered through aisles of merchandise, watched a panel about the upcoming season of some isekai anime, and ate overpriced yakisoba. But my mind was replaying those fifteen seconds on a continuous loop. The way the light caught the details on her armor, the soft, melodic sound of her voice, the impossible beauty of her eyes.
When I finally got home that night, the apartment was dark and silent. I collapsed onto the sofa, my body aching but my heart soaring. A few hours later, the front door clicked open. Rina shuffled in, looking like a zombie that had been run over by a truck, then backed over for good measure.
"I'm... dust..." she groaned, dropping her school bag and a conspicuously large, plain black duffel bag by the door. She flopped onto the armchair opposite me.
"Rough day?" I asked, trying to sound like a normal brother and not a man who had recently communed with a deity.
"The... roughest," she mumbled into the upholstery. "The library was... so crowded. And the project was... so long. So many books. Heavy, heavy books."
I nodded sympathetically, my secret boyfriend theory roaring back to life. 'Heavy books' was obviously a metaphor for the emotional baggage of dating a scoundrel. It made perfect sense. "You should probably get some rest. You look like you're about to fall apart."
"I am already a pile of loosely associated molecules," she confirmed, before dragging herself and her mysterious duffel bag to her room.
An hour later, safely locked in her sanctuary, Rina sat on the floor. The Archon armor was carefully disassembled and laid out on protective sheets. Her body screamed with exhaustion, but her mind was buzzing. The day had been a massive success. The debut was a sensation. All the hard work had paid off.
Her haul from the day was piled on her bed - mostly gifts from fans. Plushies, fan art, snacks, and a small mountain of letters. She appreciated every single one. But then she saw it. A simple, elegant gift bag. The one from that shy boy with the intense, earnest eyes.
She pulled it over and looked inside. Her breath caught in her throat. It was the artbook. Not just the standard edition, but the limited, sold-out-in-Japan, signed-by-the-artist edition. She had tried to buy this very book herself months ago, but it was already being scalped online for a fortune.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted it out. Tucked inside the cover was a small, plain white card. The handwriting was neat, simple, and strong.
To Ectiqa-sama,
I'm not good with words in person. So I hope this can say what I can't.
Thank you. Thank you for bringing heroes to life. Thank you for showing us that with passion and hard work, we can become anything. You don't just wear costumes; you wear stories. And it's an honor to be a reader.
Please continue to shine brightly.
Your greatest admirer, Starlight_Knight_01
Rina stared at the signature, her heart hammering against her ribs. It was him. The boy at the booth... that was Knight-san? The one who understood. The one who had single-handedly funded this very cosplay. The one whose comments she secretly looked forward to more than anything else.
He wasn't a rich, middle-aged CEO like Miki had guessed. He was a boy. A cute, shy boy who looked about her age. He had kind eyes.
A slow, warm blush spread across her cheeks, a genuine, unpracticed expression that had nothing to do with makeup. She hugged the artbook to her chest, the smooth, cool cover a stark contrast to the sudden heat in her face.
He had been there. He had seen her. And he hadn't just seen Ectiqa, the idol. He had seen the story she was trying to tell.
That night, for the first time in a long time, Rina didn't dream of becoming a hero from an anime. She dreamed of a quiet boy with dark hair and earnest eyes, and a name that sounded like a promise from a long-forgotten fairytale.