Silence settled over the hallway like a thick fog after the chaos. The air still carried the scent of sweat, cheap cologne, and just a hint of burnt electronics from the half-broken voice box tucked into Raito's mascot chest.
Akemi blinked slowly at the heap of unconscious men. At the towering pink figure in front of her with his giant foam fists lowered in victory. And then… she started laughing.
It wasn't ladylike or graceful or demure. It was loud, unfiltered, and oddly refreshing.
"You… You just beat up like ten guys… dressed as Kawai Kitty," she said between gasps, her hand covering her mouth as the laughter bubbled up again.
Raito turned toward her, raising one oversized paw in a sort of wave. Sparks fizzed faintly from his voice box as it sputtered back to life.
"F-friends always… bzzzzt… have each other's backs…nyaa-"
His distorted attempt at a heartwarming line from the show only made her laugh harder.
Then her smile faltered, just a little. She looked at the battered foam mascot, her arms folding over her chest. "Why… Why save me though?" she asked, quieter now. "You could've just run away. I told you to."
Raito tilted his head.
There was a pause. Then the voice box clicked again.
"Kawai Kitty must make sure… this con is the best con ever!"
Akemi gave him a flat look. "Really?"
Raito paused again, this time longer. Then his tone shifted, even through the glitching static.
"…Because I really like your voice."
Akemi blinked.
Raito continued, slowly. "I… grew up listening and watching Kawai Kitty since the day it first came out. That voice helped me sleep. Kept me company when I didn't have anyone else. It reminded me of things worth smiling for. So when I realized who you were… I knew I had to protect you. Not just because I wanted to, but because… your voice means something to me."
Akemi felt her heart skip a beat. Her face warmed—just slightly—and she looked away, the corners of her lips twitching into something between flustered and touched.
"Y-you're weird one I will give you that," she muttered, cheeks faintly pink.
Raito, still very much in costume, placed a giant paw on his hip and pointed another dramatically to the side.
"Kawai Kitty's official advice for dealing with rude fans—" bzztk "—ignore them! You're fine the way you are, nya-"
Then came the buzz and the soft click of death. The voice box let out one final wheeze and went completely silent.
Raito's next words came from his real voice—low, deadpan, and unmistakably unimpressed.
"But if it were my advice… I'd say stop whining. You're being a spoiled brat."
Akemi's eyes widened. "Wh—?"
But before she could react, Raito leapt backward like a ninja in pink fluff, bounding over the broken goons with the last remnants of agility he had in the suit.
From down the hall, voices began to echo—security, attendees, even Yumi's voice faintly among them.
Akemi took a step forward, then stopped.
She stared at the retreating mascot as he rounded a corner and vanished from view.
"That's the man from earlier isn't it...".
---
Akemi stood in the middle of the hallway, staring at the spot where the absurd pink mascot had just disappeared. Her arms were crossed, her brows slightly furrowed in thought.
"That voice…" she whispered to herself. Not the bubbly, glitching Kawai Kitty lines—but his voice. Cool, low, and a little too honest for its own good.
Her eyes widened slightly. It's him.
The rude fan from earlier.
The one who had dismissed her like she was any other booth.
The same one who had just fought off a dozen thugs in a full mascot suit like it was just another Tuesday.
Akemi clenched her fists slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Then, as if summoned by the chaos, Detective Yumi Aikawa came jogging around the corner, a walkie-talkie still clipped to her hip and… a familiar looking baby in her arms?
"Miss Inoue?" Yumi asked, her expression all business until she noticed the blinking light above one of the broken cameras. "Are you alright? What happened here? We got reports of a disturbance and—"
Akemi's eyes locked on the bundle in her arms. "Is that… a baby?"
Yumi blinked. "Huh? Oh—this?" She bounced Emi gently, who cooed sleepily in her arms. "This is my friend's sister. He asked me to look after her for a bit."
Akemi tilted her head. "And the mountain of Kawai Kitty merch?"
Yumi glanced at the overloaded shopping bag swinging from her other hand like it weighed as much as a toddler. "Also for my friend. He's… helping me out with something."
Akemi smirked. "Seems like he is overworking you though."
Yumi gave her a sharp look. "Wait a minute. Who's the detective here—you or me?"
Akemi raised her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. You've got the badge."
Yumi narrowed her eyes but eventually nodded. "So, can you tell me what happened? We've got multiple unconscious guys, a broken security camera, and half the hallway looks like a wrestling match happened in it."
Akemi hesitated.
The image of the Kawai Kitty mascot standing protectively in front of her came to mind. That ridiculous paw raised in defiance. That terrible, glitching voice box. And then—his real voice, calling her a spoiled brat.
It didn't take long for Akemi to realize that the man didn't want to be recognized because that's probably why he ran off so quickly.
She smiled faintly to herself and shook her head. "Just some guys causing trouble. But someone handled it."
Yumi arched a brow. "Handled it?"
Akemi nodded innocently. "Like magic. Poof. Gone."
Yumi gave her a look that said she didn't buy it, but she didn't press further.
As they began walking back toward the main part of the convention, Akemi glanced down at Emi, who was now softly chewing on a Kawai Kitty plush's ear.
A thought bubbled up in her mind. So that's why he was with the baby.
Her gaze flicked back to Yumi. So that means… they're all connected.
Her grin returned, sly and playful this time.
"Oh, I know who you are now," she whispered to herself with a gleam in her eye. "And you're going to regret ever calling me a spoiled brat."
Yumi glanced over. "Sorry?"
"Nothing," Akemi replied sweetly, tucking her hands behind her back as her laugh echoed lightly down the hall.
---
Raito moved swiftly through the backstage corridors, slipping into staff-only areas with practiced ease. Though the echo of chaos still buzzed behind him, his mind had already shifted to damage control. The crowd would disperse, the noise would fade—but the cut on the mascot suit? That would raise questions.
He found an unoccupied break room, locked the door behind him, and wasted no time stripping off the oversized Kawai Kitty head. A wave of hot, stale air rushed out with it. His chest was bare, glistening faintly with sweat from the heat and the fight. He hadn't worn a shirt underneath—just the suit and his resolve.
He checked himself quickly. No injuries. No bruises. Just the lingering hum of exertion and the faint ache in his shoulders.
The voice box didn't fare so well. He pulled the cracked device from the suit's inner lining. Wires sparked and fizzled, and the once-chirpy tone was now replaced with faint static and the occasional sad ny—zzzt.
"Tch. Didn't even hit me," he muttered, tossing it on the table.
Kurai's voice echoed through his mind, equal parts amused and smug."That little speech to the girl? Aww. You do have a heart. Or maybe a weakness?"
Raito didn't look up. "I just said what came to mind and it was because of Kawai Kitty and nothing more."
"And called her a spoiled brat right after. Real smooth."
"She needed to hear it."
He found the emergency sewing kit tucked in a drawer and laid the mascot suit across the table. The tear was ugly—a diagonal slash across the side—but fixable. He got to work, bare arms flexing slightly as he threaded the needle and began to stitch, focused and unbothered.
The door creaked open behind him.
"Hey, we just wanted to check—"
One staff woman poked her head in, stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes went wide.
The second one leaned in behind her and immediately froze.
There was Raito: shirtless, damp with sweat, calmly sewing a giant pink Kawai Kitty mascot with the intensity of a battlefield surgeon. The whole sight looked absurd—and weirdly cinematic.
A pink blush bloomed on both women's faces.
The door shut immediately.
"Take all the time you need!!" came the flustered voice from behind it, followed by a chorus of nervous giggles as their footsteps retreated down the hall.
Raito didn't even blink. He tied off the thread, gave the patch a testing tug, and nodded to himself.
No one could know what happened in that hallway.
The costume had to be perfect.
The con wasn't over yet.